


Suds and Buds (Yeah, Sure)

by SBambs



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Angst and a lil Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd POV (Third Person), Jason Todd is Red Hood, Mild Smut, POV Third Person, Smut, and sex, don't we all, it's kind of a shitstorm of miscommunication, slight dysfunctionality, we're trying here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 94,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBambs/pseuds/SBambs
Summary: In hindsight, Selina Kyle probably wasn't the best person to listen to for advice. In her own defense, she had listened to the cat's recommendations just to see if Jason had feelings for her like she had feelings for him. Honest. She never meant to fuck up anything between them, and she never intended to become fuck buddies with him. All she wanted was a cute relationship or else an easy rejection so she could get on with her life. Not to be friends-with-benefits with the guy. Though, she guessed she couldn't really complain; it was better than nothing.Jason was losing his mind, because fuck, out of the blue the girl he'd been in love with for the past year suddenly started showing interest. It had started with a moonlit bath under platonic pretenses (even he admitted that that sounded ridiculous now), and everything had gone up in flames after that. He shouldn't be jealous because she wasn't really his. . . and yet the mere idea of her with anyone else was driving him crazy. Why were they even fucking again? He had no goddamn clue. But it was happening, and he didn't really want it to stop.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd & Reader, Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 112
Kudos: 527





	1. Temptation in the Tub

**Author's Note:**

> And we begin with the first miscommunication of many. This should be fun.

She was supposed to be relaxing after a shitty mission, was supposed to be enjoying a book she’d had her eyes on for ages, was supposed to be thinking about important things and definitely _not_ the romantic advice given to her by an attractive, feline-themed kleptomaniac. Of course, she wasn’t actually able to do any (much less all) of those things. The smell of lavender hardly calmed her nerves. 

Selina had said to ‘be assertive’ to get what she wanted. Which was good advice, sure, especially from the woman who had managed to conquer the big bad bat. The problem was that she, herself, was about as ‘assertive’ as a tortilla chip. 

She sank further into the tub, mulling over the words for maybe the two hundredth time that hour. 

Be assertive? With Jason fucking Todd? In what universe could she do that without immediately turning into a tomato and profusely apologizing for being stupid? Would he even respond to that sort of thing?

With a huff, she closed her book and balanced it on the rim. Reading wasn’t an option at the moment; her love life, or lack thereof, was. 

Be assertive. . . . 

As in, ask him out on a date? Try to kiss him? Say ‘Hey, I know we’re friends and everything, but I would love to sit on your face’ and hope for the best? The thought alone had her groaning with utter mortification. And that was without even seeing his face curl in disgust or the harsh rejection undoubtedly to follow. 

Being assertive and seductive and confident just wasn’t her style. She was better at staying on the sidelines, watching from afar, biding her time, and waiting for the golden opportunity, even if it never came. 

This was getting her nowhere. 

She might as well just give up on the idea and move on before she really got hurt. 

Someone knocked on the door. She sighed; so much for peace or privacy. “Who is it?”

“Jason,” a rough voice answered. 

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear_. Her pulse was set alight like a wildfire instantly. She wanted, maybe more than anything else, for Jason to want her in the same way. _Annnd_ she was back to that damned cat’s advice. 

What would Selina do? 

Be seductive; try to throw him off his game. 

Easier said than done.

Fuck. The majority of her brain screamed that that was a terrible idea, and yet a small part of her wanted to see his reaction. She pooled mountains of bubbles around her chest and lifted one leg to rest on the lip of the tub, making sure to do so quietly so as not to alert him that she was in the water already. “Come in.”

Her voice sounded slightly higher-pitched—not at all sultry like she wanted. That was a problem for later, because the door handle was dipping downward. Any thought occupying her head fled immediately. 

First a sliver of his muscled forearm appeared in the sliver of the doorway, then the curve of his bicep beneath his tight black shirt. His shockingly blue eyes that always caught her off guard appeared next—they widened as much as they physically could—along with his mouth, which dropped open in an instant when the full reality of her current state set in. 

“Christ!” He slammed the door. 

Shit. That was more than a nominal blow to her ego. Had any man ever slammed a door shut to a naked Selina? She highly doubted it. All that was left to do was remain calm; this was like any botched operation. She needed to salvage what she could. “What’s wrong?” 

“You’re naked.” It could have been the door muffling and distorting his voice, but was that hoarseness she heard? She gulped. 

“And?” Wow. She really was an idiot. It was almost impressive how much of a fucking dumbass she was. _Almost_. 

“ _And?_ Why would you call me in if you were already in the tub?!” Jason didn’t sound angry so much as he did frustrated. That was. . . good. Better than she thought he’d react in all honesty. Maybe she could work with this. 

She hummed softly. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who recommended I see the eyes of everyone I have conversations with. To get a lay of their motive, right?”

A loud knock rattled the door—probably Jay bumping his head against it in some form of exasperation. “You should know my motive by now,” he said. 

“You also told me that I should keep my guard up. Always. No matter who I’m talking to,” she laughed. “Are you going back on your own advice so soon?”

She may have sounded lighthearted and carefree, but on the inside she felt like screaming because hey, he didn’t seem particularly interested in her judging by how quickly he shut the door. That, and he genuinely sounded offended at the prospect of her not trusting him. 

“You’re still naked.” It was said with hesitation, and it surprised her. There it was; she was finally getting his walls to crumble. 

“Please,” she said, and winced because she knew she was about to tell an absurdly large lie. “Like I’m worried about modesty. You’ve already seen most of me—remember that time you, Roy, and I drove to the beach?” 

“I guess,” Jason replied. The slight ruffle from the other side of the door alerted her to his discomfort. 

Christ, she didn’t mean to mortify the guy. She just wanted to see if he felt the same way about her, or if he’d at least responded to her advances; with the amount of evasion he pulled, it was clear she already had her answer. She leaned over the rim, wondering what she could do to save some amount of face. 

In a quieter voice, she said, “If you’re really that uncomfortable, you don’t have to, Jay.”

“No, no,” his voice went up a pitch. Fuck, he was cute. “If you’re okay with it, then it’s fine. I was honestly more concerned about you.”

God, what a catch. Gentlemanly _and_ considerate _and_ hot as hell? She never thought such a guy could exist. _But_ , she mused, _Jason has a habit of surprising people like that_. That was one of her favorite things about him; he always managed to keep her on her toes. 

Time to prod, just a smidge. 

“Oh, I’m fine with it, Jay. We’re friends after all, right?” This was the big ticket item. See, or rather hear in this instance, his reaction to them being ‘friends.’ Just ‘friends.’

A longer pause; she didn’t know if that was good or bad for her. “Yeah, of course.” 

There wasn’t anything discernible about the way he said it, but that brief lull in their conversation had her equal parts anxious and hopeful. Her stomach knotted. This was fine, this was great. She just had to know if he felt the same way or not, and then move from there. Nothing crazy had to happen. 

That being said, she swore she’d light the handle on fire with the way she stared at it. Slowly, slower than the previous time, it pointed downwards. But, he entered faster than the last time, which was certainly an interesting contrast. She’d have to analyze that later when her mind was calmer and not freaking out about being _naked and in front of Jason Todd_. 

When he finally looked at her, she watched, rather amused, at how his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

Alluring, right. She was supposed to be alluring. That meant she didn’t have time to admire Jay’s cuteness; she was a woman on a mission and needed to get intel. Fawning over his many assets would be an appointment for later that night (only in the event that she wasn't spending the entire evening cringing over her outrageous actions first).

In a slightly breathy voice, she asked, “So what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Jason’s eyes fluttered like he was trying to remember. She’d mark that as a win in her book. His head snapped up at her suddenly. “Oh, right. Um, the mission tonight. Did you have any observations, improvements, and/or other grievances?”

“Let me think for a moment,” she frowned, flexing the toes on the foot out of the water. She swore she saw Jason’s hand clench out of the corner of her eye, though it could have been blind hope fogging her vision. “Well, for one, we’ve got to fix that bug in our comms. We can’t have every pulse of electronegativity screwing us over, especially in hostage situations.”

“Roy’s already working on it. I might call Babs and maybe Tim, too, to really work out the kinks if he has any problems.” Of course he already had that covered. 

“Well, other suit improvements, too.”

Jason stepped closer, looking intrigued and not at all with her current state. God, his utter professionalism was somehow both admirable and infuriating. She’d never admit this to him (or anyone for that matter), but he was more like Bruce than he thought. “How so?”

“This is honestly just for me,” she said, trying to continue with an air of sophistication and failing miserably. To make up for it, she ran her hand up her neck and then through her hair. “But I’m thinking of asking Roy to put better supports in the ankles of my suit. I rolled each one at least twice tonight when we were running.”

“Shit. How long have they been bothering you?” Jason asked, and sounded genuinely concerned. Her chest twanged at the thought of him caring for her. Even if it was strictly a platonic concern, it still plucked at her heartstrings. 

She leaned forward, miming stretching—she noticed how Jason flinched when she did that, probably because some of the bubbles placed precariously over her chest were feeling the effects of gravity—before closer examining the ankle not submerged. “A while. I’ve always had really shitty ankles. I usually just take some Advil, wrap ‘em up, and call it a day after a mission like that.” 

Jason coughed. When she turned to face him, he hastily turned his head. The pink running rampant across his cheeks and the tips of his ears was not missed by her observation. She’d been trained to pick up on the subtlest shifts in a person’s body language, after all, and Jason’s reactions were anything _but_ subtle. _Perfect_. Get him all hot and bothered, or at the very least force him to consider her as a member of the opposite sex. 

“That’s probably not good.” Jason sounded like he was suffocating; she almost grinned. 

“No,” she agreed, trying not to sound too giddy. “It’s probably not. Anyways. . . .”

She trailed off, not really knowing where to go from there. Honestly, she never expected to get this far, but thank fucking God for Selina Kyle and her sometimes-sound advice. She also had to congratulate herself for being able to pull it off. God knows if she had tried this a week—or even a day ago—she would have melted into a puddle of embarrassed goo and begged to be flushed down the drain. 

“Anyways?” he echoed.

“Care to join me?” She meant it as a tease, but it came out as a genuine invitation. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. _Fuck_. She was supposed to be _sexy_ not a total fucking _horndog_. 

Thank God Jason hadn’t been eating or drinking anything, because he choked on air alone. “Excuse me?”

 _Good question_ , she internally agreed. _Hey, uh, me, what the actual fuck?!_

“Do you want to come in?” She wouldn’t have objected in the slightest if someone had taken her out back, shot her, and then thrown the body where no one would find. 

He looked (validly) confused, if not a tad concerned. “Why?” 

“We’re friends? Baths are nice? You look stressed out?” Those were all half-assed reasons and she knew it. Jason probably did too. 

“Friends?” Jason huffed with disbelief. “So you’re telling me you’d have a bath with Roy, too?”

“Sure, why not?” That was a major lie. For one thing, Roy was too rambunctious—there would be more water out of the tub than in it, which would be a pain in the ass to clean up. She also wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest, which was another important factor. Jason, on the other hand. . . .

“Christ, are you kidding me?” Jay frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

She furrowed her eyebrows to look confused. Which, actually wasn’t difficult because she hadn’t expected Jason to look so agitated by that. “Not at all. So are you coming in or not?”

He crushed his lips together. She marveled at how red his cheeks blazed. “Won’t- won’t the water spill out if I do?”

“I can always drain some,” she said with a shrug. He looked stuck between a rock and a hard place; God, what if he really didn’t like her? She decided to back track and give him an out after being such a shitty friend to him. “Listen, Jay, if this is making you uncomfortable, we can always have this conversation later. I’m sorry if-“

“I’ll do it.” And Lord, the way he looked, his jaw set in determination and his ice-blue eyes staring through her, she almost melted. 

“Okay,” was all she could muster. 

Before she had even gotten the word out, his shirt was off. It was her turn to blush wildly, though she tried to look unfazed. Light and pinkish ridges of scars broke up the smooth plain of his muscled, tan skin. Her eyes raked down his chiseled stomach and caught on a vein plunging into his waistband—he undid the top button of his pants—her eyes snapped away. 

She heard the shuffling of heavy cloth off to her right, but didn’t dare look. 

“Are you having second thoughts, sweetheart?” He asked. There was his cocky streak again. First he was considerate, then he was shy, then he was smug, all in the span of ten minutes? Unfair. 

Christ, when did this turn into a competition of who could turn on who the most? 

Her eyes rose only to his feet, next to which were piled his pants and underwear. She swore he was able to hear the deafening pound of her heart; maybe that was why he was so abruptly self-assured. 

_Breathe_ , she thought. _Channel Selina, channel Selina._

Yes, she had to be strong. Seductive. Sure of herself. Her eyes rose up his body, not pausing on any particular region despite really wanting to (thighs, torso, cock, legitimately everywhere if she were to be honest). She held his gaze evenly when she finally reached his eyes despite wanting to worship every inch of his skin with her mouth. 

Fuck, his eyebrows were quirked in that sexy way of his, and his smile—she could have drooled. 

“Not in the slightest,” she answered sweetly. Fireworks were going off in her head and in her throat and in her stomach, splattering her insides with a million different colors of anxiety and giddiness. “Mind if I play some music?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Nope.” The way he said it, with the ‘p’ popped, made her realize that she had to bring the heat. He was getting too comfortable and she was losing what edge she had had. 

What else to do other than stand up? 

The trill and flush of water sounded lovely, especially alongside the choked sound that emitted from Jason’s throat. The cold was bitter and the utter exposure terrifying, but the complete shift of power made up for it. Suds clung to her body, pulled down by gravity and pooling at her feet. “I’m feeling some jazz. Is that okay with you?”

Jason gulped, the _lig-uhg_ sound audible amidst the still air. His eyes stuck to her, drinking in her every movement like a starved man. When she looked over, his face, the tips of his ears, even his neck and chest were all more crimson than his helmet. And when her eyes flicked down to his cock, she saw that he was more than a little _affected_. He only nodded dumbly. 

“Perfect.” She licked her lips and relished as he followed the movement. “Why don’t you get in first while I get this started?”

His head bobbed again, but he made no movement for the tub. Eyes focused on her legs— _So Jason was a leg guy_ , she thought to herself with a grin—before occasionally sweeping down over her stomach and chest. Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed that his fists, held tightly to his sides, were clenched to the point where his knuckles were pure white. 

This was exactly what she wanted: him to be as spellbound with her as she often was with him. 

“Jason,” she almost sang. “The water. You must be awfully cold standing like that.”

That snapped him out of it. Kind of. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll just, um, yeah.”

She snickered. How eloquent. 

Despite wanting to savor every moment he took stepping into the tub, she focused on finding the right playlist. Deliberation and tact. Two things that she needed in order to succeed. She tapped the play button, wondering where to go next.

At the sound of bass strings being plucked, she turned. Jason whipped his head around like he was trying _not_ to get caught staring. Blatant eye aversion, the scarlet dying his body, and his overall stiff body language grossly betrayed him. Internally, she laughed. _A little late for that one, buddy_. 

“Like what you see?” she asked, and was genuinely interested in his response.

“I’d,” he swallowed, stumbling over his words and running a hand through his hair. Her eyes caught on the rippling muscles of his arms and she bit her bottom lip. “I’d be stupid not to.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. _Don’t be thrown off-guard_ , she chastised herself. “Charmer,” she almost purred. 

“I’m not trying to charm you, sweetheart,” Jason said. An intense seriousness wove into the blue of his irises. Her gut clenched. She took a step closer, maybe just to drown in his eyes alone. 

_Too bad_ , she almost said out loud. _I am._

“You do know that I was talking about the view, right?” she teased. Her hand gestured out the window of the apartment, where Gotham’s neon lights glittered, unscathed by any grime that further scrutiny could provide. Any ounce of severity drained from his face as it flared up in red once again. 

“Of course. I- I was, too.” _Uh-huh, sure you were_ , she smirked inwardly. She had to admit, embarrassing Jay was quickly becoming her newest favorite pastime. 

Of course, she was a hypocrite. She was admiring the definition in his thighs beneath the water, barely shielded by the thin veneer of bubbles still left, and the way steam curled around his chest, tracing over his skin in exactly the same way she wanted to. As much as she loved nighttime cityscapes (it was kind of a necessity if you didn’t want to lose your mind in the vigilante business), the specks of light were little more than dust when compared to Jason. 

Stepping lightly, she slung one of her legs over the rim. Jason’s eyes flicked over her chest before meeting her own shyly. She stepped back out when another truly Selina-Kyle-esque idea crossed her mind.

“You should probably dunk before I get in,” she murmured. She stepped closer over to his side, bending slightly to ruffle his hair, but also to give him a front-stage ticket to see her breasts. “There won’t be enough room for you to submerge if I’m in too.”

He made a choked sound, eyes glued to her assets and clutching the sides of the tub like his life depended on it. “That’s, uh, a good idea.”

“Gotta watch out for my teammates, right?” 

“Right,” he swallowed, then pushed the top of his head into the water. What she wouldn’t give to run her fingers through his hair right then. 

Only when he emerged did she step into the warm water. Goosebumps trailed up her legs and arms; amidst trying to make Jason as turned on as possible, she had almost forgotten about how fucking cold it really was. 

The water felt heavenly. Too bad Jason was spread eagle (had she not been so hot and bothered, she might have been annoyed) and took up maybe 90% of the tub space. She was left with a small area—her knees bent and flush against her chest—because the thought of touching Jason felt almost taboo. 

“So. . . .” Jason trailed off, hair plastered to his forehead. She grabbed her book to distract her hands from reaching out and fixing it. 

She opened to where she left off. “So?”

He cleared his throat loudly, flicking his gaze down. When she didn’t acknowledge it, he cursed under his breath (which, fuck, if she wasn’t wet already, that definitely made her gush down there). 

“Sweetheart,” Jason muttered, staring at her face like he might die if he looked lower. “Maybe you shouldn’t sit _like that_.”

She crossed her ankles and sat up a little straighter. “Like what?”

“I can see your, um, _everything_.” Jason gulped, his eyes dipping a fraction at the word ‘everything.’ With the amount of blood rushing to his face, she was surprised his head didn’t just explode from the pressure alone. 

Arching an eyebrow, she put the book down. “You haven’t exactly given me much of an option, Mr. Manspreader.” As she gestured to his open and outstretched legs, a peal of laughter escaped from her. Now, she wasn't exactly a regular partaker in alcohol, but she knew she was drunk on the feeling of making Jason blush. 

“Shit, sorry.” He fumbled, trying to make room by crumpling into a tight ball. Christ, if she had a dollar for every time he did something adorable, she’d be a billionaire. In the process, water sloshed over the side, just miraculously missing her paperback book. If he had ruined it, she would have never let him live it down. 

“Jason,” she chuckled. “Stretch your legs on this side, scooch over just a tad, and then I can stretch my legs on the other side. That way we’re both comfortable.” 

He did that, thank God, so they could stop wasting water and so she could get on with forming her hypothesis. “Sorry ‘bout that, I hadn’t even realized. . . .”

Her feet grazed his hip, but that couldn’t really be helped. As it was, his left calf invaded some of her space, brushing against her leg. She tried not to show how much these little touches affected her because damn, standing up and then straddling him sounded like a wonderful idea at the moment. 

“No worries.” She mimed thinking, leaning in closer to him. When he echoed her actions, she (internally) pumped a fist up in the air. Mirror neuron action was a good indicator of respect and attraction. Maybe there was hope for her after all. “I’ve been thinking, actually.”

“About?” Hoarseness roughened up his voice, and he wouldn’t stop looking at her mouth. 

_Us_. Yeah, like she could say that. 

“I think we should secure a better perimeter next time. That’s what really killed us tonight; they were able to surround us which significantly cut down our efficiency,” she said matter-of-factly. 

Jason blinked like he’d been slapped. He jolted backwards, hitting his elbow on the hard porcelain with a yelp. “Yeah, that would help.”

He didn’t add anything after that, didn’t give her anywhere to go after that, didn’t give her any indication that she wasn’t making a God-awful mistake after that. Instead, Jason just stared at his hands in his lap. Christ, this was infuriating.

“What else did you have in mind?” she tried.

“For what?” Jason’s head snapped up.

“For the mission? We’re supposed to be brainstorming, right?” When in doubt, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

 _In case you couldn’t tell, I’m hitting on you, dummy_. _Make a move, do_ something _other than stutter, show_ some _kind of interest_ , she almost shouted. At the same time, seeing him so flustered and out of his element was refreshing, to the point where she could almost forgive his lack of game. 

“Yeah,” he said shakily. “I think we’ve covered most, if not all, of the bases already.”

Lord help her. This was getting her nowhere closer to discerning how he really felt about her; that meant she needed to be more assertive (how many more hints could she really give the guy?).

“Shampoo?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, sure.”

“It’s mine; I hope you don’t mind sharing?” she asked innocently.

“Not- not at all, sweetheart.” Hook, line, and sinker. Just what she wanted. 

“How about I do it for you?” She poured some into her hand, almost daring him to refuse. The way he looked at that moment—hair slightly mussed and damp, eyes wide, lips red (and very kissable, might she add)—nearly made her lungs collapse with want. 

His jaw clenched into a taught angle. “Sounds good.”

Pouring out some of the gel, she rubbed it between her hands. “Turn around, please.”

Some more sloshing as Jason awkwardly shifted. He was a bull in a china shop, absolutely out of place against the white ceramic and tiling. Hesitantly, he leaned backwards, like he was afraid to invade her space again. God, what a sweetheart.

Leisurely, she spread her fingertips through his soft hair. It felt better than she ever could have imagined—it was a sin that Jason had better hair than her, and yet she couldn’t fault him. After a solid twenty seconds of dragging her fingers in slow circles, he finally relaxed into her palms. If only this was an everyday occurrence for the two of them, a way to unwind after the stresses of the anti-hero lifestyle literally and figuratively kicked their asses. 

In a perfect world, that would be their reality. But the world wasn’t perfect, and she wasn’t that lucky. 

To distract herself from that particularly bitter thought, she lightly scraped her fingers against his scalp. A satisfied something—she didn’t know if it was a sigh or a sob or a moan—gurgled in the back of his throat.

He groaned, this time the sound clearer, and leaned his head into her hands more so that the entire weight of it was held upright by her. When she pulled away slightly, he pushed closer to her fingertips. “Don’t tease, love-“ her heart leapt up and into her throat with that particular term of endearment, “-that feels so good.”

“I can tell. You’re so needy, Jay,” she said with an easy laugh. This was her pièce de résistance; leaning in close to his left ear so that her lips brushed against it. “It’s cute.”

One of his large hands found her calf and clenched around it. The simple action took her breath away; she forced herself to continue tentatively grazing her fingers over his head, focusing on the nape of his neck. “ _Fuck_.”

She chuckled. “Want me to stop, Jay-darling?”

“Never.” That was a moan, and she reveled in the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it. 

“Unfortunately, I think we’ll be prunes if we stay here forever.” A full laugh slipped from her mouth. “That, and I think it’s time for a rinse.”

“No _oo_ ,” Jason groaned in despair. The hand not occupied with holding her calf moved to her wrist and kept it there.

She chuckled loudly, too loudly for it to be considered attractive. “You’re so childish.”

“And?” he returned, shifting his head slightly to catch her gaze.

“And, it really is time to get all of this out before it gets into your eyes.” She raised both eyebrows, daring him to oppose her. 

Jay feigned thinking. (Desperately) she tried not to focus on the sharp curve of her jaw or the perfect bridge of his nose or the feeling of his hair in her hands or anything else that made him utterly impeccable. “I think I’ll risk it.”

She rolled her eyes; he really wasn’t going to budge, was he? Well, she’d have to give him an incentive to do so. 

Trying not to tremble, she leaned in closer. Jason stiffened at the feeling of her breath on his skin. This was a risky move, but it had to be done. 

Nibbling ever so lightly on his ear, she asked, “Are you sure you want to risk it?”

He bit the hand he had previously used to hold her wrist prisoner to muffle a groan. Almost fascinated, she watched his throat move, wanting quite possibly more than anything to kiss his Adam’s apple. 

“No fair.” Was it her imagination, or was Jason Peter Todd pouting? While sounding ridiculously sexy? What the fuck?

“Too bad, Jason,” she sang, pulling away. In an instant, she had the handheld shower head. “Now, close your eyes, okay?”

He sighed. “Okay.”

Little did he know, she had another mischievous idea in mind. Sitting up as far as she could, she pressed the front of her body into his hard, strong back. As soon as her breasts brushed against his skin, his entire body stiffened, yet he made no sound. Interesting. 

She flicked the water on and tested it on her hand. Too cold. “We’ll have to wait a minute for the water to warm up,” she murmured into his ear. Her chest was pressed fully against his shoulder blades now. 

He nodded and cleared his throat. The words that grumbled from his mouth were infinitely hoarser than his previous childish gripes. “Sounds good, sweetheart.”

She took the time to fully admire him now that his eyes were closed and they were at an impasse of sorts. His silky eyelids looked like heaven to kiss; her hands itched to trail across his stubbly jaw and trace up his strong cheekbones. And his lips? She almost shuddered at the things she wanted to do to his lips. 

_Bad girl_ , she chastised herself. Now was not the time for her to get a lady-boner. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus back to the task at hand. 

Testing the water again yielded better results. Wordlessly, she brought the handheld faucet up. Her hands scratched the same looped designs into his scalp upon rinsing out all of the flowery bubbles. 

A thought tore through her faster and deadlier than a bullet; Jason would smell like her tonight and tomorrow. She didn’t know why, but the idea pooled an intense heat and pressure in her lower belly. 

When she was done, she realized she was at a dead end. For the majority of the past half hour, she’d held the reins, and now she had nowhere left to go. 

“You want me to return the favor, sweetheart?” Christ, the way his voice rumbled out of his chest caused something to clench deep in her stomach. 

_Don’t let down your guard yet_ , she told herself. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Not at all.” Even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he wore a grin. Knowing him, he was after payback. 

“Let me get in front, okay?” 

“Mmhmm.” His hand didn’t move from her calf. 

“Jason, I need you to let go of me,” she said with an airy giggle following soon after. Had she ever giggled so much in one night? She severely doubted it. 

“Ah, shit, sorry.” Said hand pulled away from her leg instantly. This boy was too charming for his own good. “Do you need help moving?”

She brought her lips to his ear again. “I can manage, thanks.”

“Oh-okay,” he choked out. 

She stood up and stepped over the rim, allowing him to shuffle backwards. This was perfect, actually; she realized that when she got back in because she could press into him, and see where that took them. 

Dipping her feet carefully back into the surface, she stood right in front of him before slowly lowering. He didn’t make any comment, and she couldn’t see his face from where she was, but the way his hands curled into tight fists was indication enough that he was attempting to restrain himself. She marveled at the thick muscles and veins of his forearms as she finally touched the bottom of the tub. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat. “I’ll get started.”

“Mm,” she murmured. “Please do. Oh, and let me get closer so it’s easier for you. We wouldn’t want to strain your arms, now would we?”

She slid back until she felt the insides of his muscled thighs and his cock, already hard from her earlier conquests. She smirked as Jason fumbled with the bottle of shampoo. It was knocked over the edge and onto the floor. 

“Shit.” It hissed from him sharply, like it was ripped from his throat. She had a feeling it wasn’t because of the bottle. 

Not missing a beat, she feigned stretching, arching her back and rubbing her ass further onto him. His hardness felt good to press into; she could definitely tell that he was _well-endowed_. She knew he’d feel absolutely delicious inside of her. “The water feels so good, right Jason?”

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and right next to her ear. Maybe out of reflex or maybe to stop her from damning them both, one of his large hands clamped to each thigh. 

That was the pressure that drew a gasp out of her; fuck, she wanted his hands on her legs like that at _all_ times. His cock twitched at the sound. 

“Sweetheart,” he warned. His mouth was hot against her. The bottom of his lip trembled against her earlobe, the stubble on the bottom of his chin rubbing sharply, but not terribly irritatingly, against her jaw. 

_Kiss me_ , she almost begged, but clamped her mouth down at the last second. Only when she was sure she wouldn’t say anything too desperate did she answer. Even then, it was little more than a glorified hum. “Hm?”

He didn't answer right away; a pang of worry shot through her. Arching her back into him again, she extended her neck—a peace offering, an invitation. Her shoulder blades grazed over his chest as if to entice him closer. 

And for one indescribable, soul-catching moment, she felt the ghost of his lips tremble against her skin. It was so soft, so lovely, she could have wept. At the same time, it branded her with want. Something coiled within her core; her body trembled against his, providing just a little more friction between them. 

He stopped all too soon, moving to lean his head onto her shoulder; Jason made no move to release his hands. “Don’t-” he groaned. 

She shifted her hips softly again, feeling him oh-so-hard behind her. Christ, she needed him. 

While his hands were clamped tightly enough around her legs to leave marks, she loved that he didn’t make an effort to stop her movements. Hell, it almost felt like he was pulling her into him at this point. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t do something you can’t see through to the end, love.”

If she didn’t want to win so badly, she would have whimpered at his gravelly, baritone voice. 

“Who says I won’t finish what I’ve started?” she murmured. Somewhere in the haze of oh-my-God-it’s-finally-happening her more logical mind whirred. He liked her, this wasn’t a dream, he actually- 

No, he was _attracted_ to her. That didn’t mean like. That didn’t mean _love_. 

Her chest twinged painfully. 

His hands loosened, thumbs starting to trace small circles into the flesh of her inner thighs. She thought it might be lovingly, but then she realized that it also could be her extrapolating. 

She was such a hypocrite. And a coward. She couldn’t. Fuck, God damn it, she couldn’t. 

It was painfully funny, because she could handle five trained assassins at once and withstand the pain from several open bullet wounds for multiple hours, but she couldn't bear to face Jason's inevitable rejection. Some sad fuck she was.

No, she wasn’t a Selina Kyle. She couldn’t have any man in the world fall in love with her; they could want sex from her, sure, but falling in love was out of the question. Jason couldn't be any different. 

Christ, she needed out. 

He was attracted to her physically, but that was just face-value. It was a shallow kind of attraction. She thought Jason was the most handsome guy on the planet (maybe even the fucking universe), but it wasn't just that for her; he made her laugh with his dumb literary jokes while on patrol, and he made her feel safe even amidst the most dangerous situations. He was an amazing person who deserved the entire world, and she could never be an entire world to him. How could she? Why had she even dared to think she could be enough?

Jason picked up on her sudden stiffness. His hands stopped drawing over her legs, and she was somehow both infinitely grateful and upset because of it. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" 

She gulped and nodded even though it wasn't. If she had tried to say anything, it would have been garbled by the impossibly big lump in her throat. Hot, itchy tears swarmed within her eyes; she forced herself to look up and blink rapidly to stop them from falling. The last thing she wanted was his pity. 

Her mind raced over the entirety of their interaction. He had been hesitant, always making sure she was okay with what was happening even if she was the one instigating. Halfway through, he started responding more confidently, probably because she had been making it more and more obvious that sex was an option. That had to be the fucking reason for this. 

An ache, more dreadful than anything she’d ever felt, nestled and nested into the cavity of her chest. At least she’d gotten her answer, right? 

Wrong. She felt like absolute shit. A year's worth of pining down the drain; a year's worth of hopeful what-ifs and pleas to some unknown god and restless nights, all reduced to pointless ash. She shouldn't have been surprised, though. She should have known better. 

Her phone buzzed. And thank fucking God for that. 

In an instant, she jumped out of the water, readily facing the cold the world really had to offer. Her body moved on its own, like the water was a gasoline lit on fire and she was acting on pure instinct. She didn’t want to find out what he wanted from her if it meant her heart getting shattered and drowned in the tub. 

Her hands clutched the phone like it was a lifeline. It was Dick, asking her if she wanted to get a bite with him and Kori, permitting she was in the area. She quickly typed back an affirmative. Whatever got her out of this fucking dumpster fire was welcome. 

“Hm,” she tried to sound casual. It sounded strained even to her; the lump in her throat made it nearly impossible not to sound like she was drowning. “I’ll have to call in my shampoo favor later, Jay.” 

“What?” She couldn’t meet his eyes for fearing what she might see (or rather, what she might not see). The confusion in his voice was palpable. “Why?”

She snatched a towel to hide her body—self-consciousness crawled beneath her skin at the sudden exposure to air—and ruffled her hair. The sting of her nails against her scalp helped to clear her head, at least a little bit. “Dick and Kori want to have dinner. I-“ she caught herself from saying the three forbidden words. “You know I can’t pass up free food.”

That sounded like a lie and she knew it and she knew he probably knew it, but she needed to get out before the tears started. She left before he could answer and before he could see her cry.


	2. Seduction in the Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II: Hey folks, this is where it starts to get a little (a lot) smuttier. Viewer discretion is advised and all that jazz. Hope y'all enjoy!

Jason could have torn his hair out in frustration. 

For fourteen months, he’d tried to play it cool; for fourteen months, he’d tried to stay away from her; for fourteen months, he’d tried not to think about her before he fell asleep; for fourteen months, he'd tried not to touch himself with her in mind; for fourteen months, he'd tried not to laugh and joke and talk like he was in love with her; for fourteen months, he'd tried not to fall in love with her any _more_. Sure, he’d failed miserably during every single goddamn second of those fourteen months, but at least he’d been _trying_ not to be selfish. 

He couldn’t believe his phenomenally shitty luck. _Fourteen fucking months_ , and yet it all came crashing down in one night.

The girl of his dreams had let him into the bathroom while she was bathing, had asked him to join her in said bathing, had started shampooing his hair, had fucking rubbed her perfect ass against his cock, and had then left like it wasn’t an earth-shattering occurrence. 

Jason sure as hell couldn’t go back to pretending like that hadn’t happened. Not after fourteen _fucking_ months of trying to respect her space and not when he knew what she looked like _naked_. 

He needed to know what the fuck was going on; more importantly, he needed to know if it had been some kind of fucked up sex dream or if it had actually been real.

While he never actually talked to her about it, per se, her body language was enough to tell him that it had happened and that she didn’t know how to deal with it either. Which, in all honesty, was a little comforting. He wasn’t completely alone in being left in the dark. 

What was not comforting, however, was that every time he tried to get close, every time he tried to get close to her in order to discuss exactly what went down in the bathroom, she always danced away, or else clung to the side of someone else. It was like she was afraid of him, and that just about killed Jason. 

She could be working out and as soon as he entered the room, she’d leave; she could be reading a book in the living room of the safe house and if he sat down in a chair across from her, she darted to her room in an instant. It was the worst during missions because she was terse, totally focused and professional, with few of her witty remarks to cut through the monotony of patrol and stakeouts; Bruce might have found it easier to work with less chatter over the comms, but to Jason, it was absolute hell. 

It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. 

The saucy smirks she had sent his way—her honeyed voice—her small fingers in his hair—the way she had kept biting that damned bottom lip of hers—her soft body pressed into his—that one small gasp he had managed to squeeze out of her that haunted him every night. 

And Christ, it was _every_ night. 

Right after she left, he’d begged his hands not to touch himself, and then failed pitifully. It had only taken a few tight strokes of his hand before he came hard into the water with her name on his lips. 

The next night he hadn’t fared much better, and had even woken up with his hand down his pants despite having taken care of his, er, problem the night before. 

It was like his cock had remembered exactly how it had pressed into her body, like it had memorized the tang of her skin, like it could only think about that little stolen breath and her lovely hooded eyes and her smile and _God_ , he was losing his mind. 

Jason couldn't even feel satisfied after touching himself because he felt guilty whenever he finished. He was imagining her—his _friend_ for God's sake—bent over the tub or straddling him in the water or pinned up against a wall; he wanted to see how red her skin turned beneath his lips and wanted to drink in every one of her moans; he needed to feel her around him—Christ, the thought alone made him want to touch himself with her in mind—and then wake up with her weight in his arms the next morning. 

It quickly became an event not solely designated to the evening. 

Jason, for lack of a better phrase, rose to the occasion whenever the thought happened to cross his mind; it had made two of the three last meetings with Bruce and the one lunch he’d had with Dick rather awkward to say the least. 

That was the other thing. _Dick_. She had run to Dick. Well, technically Dick and Kori. That lessened the blow, at least a little. Jason had asked him how dinner had gone as nonchalantly as possible, and when all he got from Dick was how the food was good and she looked like she had a good time and Kori looked amazing, Jason almost lost that nonchalant front. His brother would’ve understood his outburst, but Jason really didn’t want to hate himself anymore for lashing out at Dick, too. 

He was going crazy. He had to be, if this was how he was acting. 

Jason wanted to talk to Roy about it—if anyone understood it’d be him—but his stomach shriveled once he remembered what she said. 

‘ _So you’re telling me you’d have a bath with Roy, too?_ ’

‘ _S_ _ure, why not?_ ’

The mere idea of her doing that with anyone else made Jason want to punch something. Hard. Until he couldn’t feel his hands _or_ his head anymore. 

Had they already?

Jason had tried to suss it out the next morning at breakfast. 

The way they laughed as they worked in the kitchen, side by side, made his stomach churn. It was so easy for them; she had twirled around him to open the fridge, the hem of her too-big pajama shirt exposing just an inch more of her thigh. Jason simultaneously wondered what she looked like first waking up, and if that shirt had belonged to Roy at some point. The lump in his throat wouldn’t go away. 

Had she cashed in one of her ‘shampoo favors’ with him? 

She had reached for the butter that Roy was hoarding—he had playfully nudged her away, lip-syncing to some pop song from his workout playlist—she had laughed in that loud guffaw of hers that crinkled her eyes into crescents and bunched up her cheeks—he had finally conceded and tossed it to her from behind his back—she had stuck out her tongue but turned with a grin. 

Had she gone further with him? 

She had used a hip to nudge him out of the way so she could put the chopped veggies into the omelet cooking on the stove—he had nudged her back, waving the spatula in his hand as if to shoo her away—she flipped him off with a grin—he had poked her in the side and asked her if she wanted her bacon ‘charbroiled, as usual’—she had rolled her eyes and said ‘yes’ before asking if he wanted his cream cheese melty like the heathen he was. 

Had she slept with him-

Jason had loudly stated that he was going to get a breakfast sandwich on the way to the Manor, leaving out the ‘before I actually break anything’ that burned on his tongue.

He hated the conclusion he’d come to; she and Roy must’ve liked each other. It had to have been mutual because they _fit_ so well together. Jason was a fucking fool for ever thinking he could fit with her. 

That also meant that she maybe hadn’t meant everything she’d done in the bath to come off as flirting; it had to have been him projecting his internal desires onto her body language. Fuck, and when he’d grabbed her hips and said something very not subtle (‘ _D_ _on’t do something you can’t see through to the end, love_. . .’ who said bullshit like that anyway?!), of course she’d realized what a fucking creep he was. 

She had said they were friends. Why had he ever thought otherwise?

He’d called her ‘love’ for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t do that; that was terrible. As it was, ‘sweetheart’ was pushing it, but _‘love_?’ He had looked at the line he shouldn’t have crossed, measured it and everything, and then sprinted ten miles past it. 

At the same time, Jason detested the idea of anyone else calling her those pet names. It sent pure fire through his veins. Someone touching her, flirting with her, addressing her with sweet terms of endearment? White hot rage that carved into his gut. Even if it was Roy—the guy she _obviously_ liked and the guy who _obviously_ liked her back, and who Jason approved as someone who would treat her right—it sent him fucking foaming at the mouth.

Jealousy was bad. Christ, he knew that, he _knew_ that. It was unhealthy and shitty and made him a terrible person. 

He shouldn’t want her all to himself. He shouldn’t care who she saw or who she’d seen or what she did with others. If anything, if she had gone further with Roy, he should be glad for his friends. They seemed happy, and they both deserved happiness. 

That was all good in theory, but in reality, the thought made Jason sick. 

Whenever he saw them in the morning, he lost his appetite. After patrols, when they’d normally order a couple pizzas from the 24/7 pizzeria down the street, he couldn’t stomach more than a slice. He just grit his jaw so tightly shut that opening it became more painful than when the hunger eventually returned. 

Fuck, it was possessiveness too. When Roy slung his arm over her shoulder before one of their missions, he thought he was going feral and wanted to tear it away; don’t even get him started about how Roy ruffled her hair when she took her full-head mask off back at the safe house. Jason wanted to touch her like that, casually, like it was an everyday occurrence and like she adored it. He quickly shook the thought out of his head. It wasn’t in his place to break up anyone’s love, especially the love of two of his most favorite people. Jason. . . he couldn’t be selfish. 

He didn’t deserve to be selfish. He didn’t deserve _her_. 

So, he resigned himself to sitting on the sidelines, watching as two people fell in love and trying hard not to be bitter because of it. Jason smiled and laughed and stopped trying to get her alone and stopped trying to glare daggers at his best friend. He’d be okay, he’d get through it; it would tear at every cell in his body and strike harder than the fucking crowbar, but Jason would do it, for them. 

It was only during the darkest hours of the late evening or early morning, when he only had the solace of his hands and the memory of that night, that he allowed himself to be selfish and wonder how sharing a bed with her would feel. He touched himself with her in mind, asking some unknown god out there if her hand was softer than his or if she liked to be the little spoon or if she would clench tightly around him as they both came. 

Even then, in those quiet moments where no one else knew of his inconsiderate and disrespectful deeds, Jason felt like shit afterwards. He was imagining his friend in all the ways he shouldn’t be—beneath him, kissing him goodnight and good morning, naked and tangled in the sheets, sucking his cock, telling him she loved him. 

Christ, it was at the point where he couldn’t get sleep because he was wondering if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked or if she would have fucked him in the tub had Dick not texted her.

Jason didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up. 

* * *

Two weeks later was when he finally had his break. 

He was showering—trying not to think about water or her naked body or the fact that he was already half hard—when a timid knock at the door came. “Jay?”

Jason bit his lip at her voice. She’d seldom talked to him alone like this, usually only when she absolutely had to and never looking him straight in the eye for more than five seconds. He missed the long talks about nothing that they had shared and he missed the sound of her laugh when it was directed at one of his stupid jokes. 

“Yes-?” Jason clamped his mouth before the ‘sweetheart’ could escape. She wasn’t his sweetheart, ergo he had no right to call her that. 

“I need to grab some Advil. Is it okay if I, um, come in there?” she asked. _Her ankles must have been bothering her again_ , he thought to himself _._ Jason gulped—goosebumps, not from the warmth of the shower but just from her fucking voice alone, rippled over his skin. “I promise that I won’t look.”

Had he not been so twisted up with jealousy and love and relief and guilt, he would have laughed. They’d already seen each other naked, even if they hadn’t (unfortunately) done anything about it. 

“No problem. C’mon in.” Fuck, his voice sounded hoarse, even to him and even above the chime of water against tile. 

He faced the shower head directly so he wouldn’t be tempted to undress her with his eyes. The door clicked open, her small padded footsteps barely audible. He clenched his jaw when his head started to turn to her on its own. The squeak of a hinge, the rattle of pills, the quick shock of the sink faucet, a gulp—fuck, a _gulp_. 

Christ, his fantasies were going to have a field-day with that one later that night. Already, he was imagining her kneeling before him, mouth open, ready to suck his-

“How’re- how’re your ankles doing?” he asked weakly.

The bottle rattled in what he assumed was her hand, maybe because he’d startled her or maybe because she was nervous to be alone with him. “Oh, um, good. Thanks.”

Fuck, he was stupid. Small talk? _Now?_ He was naked and she was definitely embarrassed; this was the inverse of their situation two weeks ago, and they were undoubtedly both thinking about it in the same way. Had she not still been in the room, Jason would have slammed his head against the tiled wall and prayed for the sweet release of unconsciousness. 

_Don’t turn around_ , he told himself. _Don’t engage, don’t make her uncomfortable, don’t do something to get in the way of her and Roy, don’t be a dick, don’t be selfish_.

He turned around. Hell, he didn’t even stop there; Jason opened the shower door just enough to peek his head out. And shit, he fucking engaged. “Do you wanna, I don’t know, call up that shampoo favor of yours?”

Oh for three. He’d definitely made her uncomfortable. The clatter of the bottle against the sink alerted him to the fact. Knowing him, Jason had also probably fucked up numbers four, five, and six, too. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she looked absolutely stunning: cheeks kissably red, mouth open to a small ‘o,’ eyes wide and lovely and looking right at him. It wouldn’t last. Jason counted the seconds, waiting for her to avert her gaze. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five. . . . He got all the way to eight and she was still looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. 

She didn’t. There was no way she could want to, not with how she reacted before and not with how she avoided him like the plague.

He watched her mouth close then open again, her pretty lips crushing together. “What if- what if I do?” she finally said. 

A groan nearly ripped free from his throat. Jason thanked the fact that the glass was so fogged, or else she would have seen how spectacularly erect he was. 

“Minx,” he all but growled. Her only response was a breathy giggle, and Jason realized that he really was equal parts selfish for and helpless against her. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to ever stop loving her. And when her arms crossed over her stomach, hands clenched around the hem of her hoodie, all Jason could do was watch. 

Her breasts bounced when it was over her head. This time, Jason couldn’t stop the moan gurgling in his throat. What he wouldn’t give to kiss and suck and lick and bite those lovely tits of hers. She caught his heated stare—Jason knew he should at least act embarrassed, but couldn’t focus on anything but her at the moment—and quirked up the corners of her mouth into a coquettish smile. 

Realizing she had an active audience, that saucy flare flickered on in her eyes. Jason knew he was whipped, even if he had taken the initiative. 

Her hands slowly traced over her chest and down her waist, hooking on the material of her shorts. Excruciating millimeter by excruciating millimeter, she pulled the stretchy fabric down her sculpted legs while maintaining eye contact. Jason gulped when the shorts were finally around her trim ankles. Her eyes followed the movement and she laughed. 

“Something wrong, Jay?” 

He tasted salt in his mouth and realized he’d been biting his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jason cleared his throat. “Not at all, sweetheart.”

Just for right now, he’d call her ‘sweetheart.’ He could afford it; she was into this, Jason already knew that he was _beyond_ into this, and if that were the case, then he could let his heart’s desires free just this once. 

She slowly sauntered over to him. A journey that would take maybe two seconds to cover took her eight. Now, he was impatient—Jason wanted to feel her thighs held within his hands again and see what her skin tasted like—but he swore his head still swung with every flick of her hips. 

“You’ll have to move aside or open the door a little more if you want me in, Jason.”

Dumbly, he stepped to the left. 

Hell, he loved the way his name fell from her lips. Part of him wanted to beg her to just say his name over and over again, while another part of him wondered if she said Roy’s name the same way she said his. He instantly regretted the thought. 

To distract him from that wretched idea and its accompanying guilt and anger, Jason grabbed the shampoo bottle while she stepped under the shower head. 

“It’s mine,” he said, echoing what she’d said in the bath two weeks before. “Hope you don’t mind.”

She didn’t turn around completely, instead only shifting her neck. Jason thanked God that he could see the entirety of her back and ass and legs glistening in water. “Not in the slightest.”

He took a step closer, mentally preparing himself. An evil idea leaped through his head. Angling the bottle over her back, Jason squeezed. 

The shock of cold shampoo on her shoulder caused her to jump. He watched as it trailed down her shoulder and muscled back, a few drops settling on her left ass cheek. _Fuck_.

“Oops,” he said with a low chuckle. She shot him an unimpressed glare. “Well, we wouldn’t want any of that go to waste. I’ll just scoop it up-” he cupped his hand on her bottom and slowly started up, making sure to get every last glob, as she quivered against him, “-there we go.”

Jason rubbed his hands together to make it warm and sudsy. When he was content with the lather of bubbles in his palms, he started massaging it into her hair. 

“Mm, Jay,” she moaned. 

Fuck. She hadn’t even touched him and he was already painfully hard. 

Jason tentatively scraped his nails against her scalp—she arched back into him—her ass grazed against the head of his cock—and it was Jason’s turn to moan. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear. All the while, he continued to curl his fingers within her thick hair. Her only reply was a hum that urged him to continue. “How does this feel?”

“Perfect.”

He bit his lip at the throaty murmur of her voice. “Good. You deserve to be pampered, love.”

She sighed. “You do too, Jay.” He couldn’t see her face (unfortunately) but he heard her smile. 

“I-” _I love you._ “Thank you.”

A wild pulse echoed throughout his body, and this time it wasn’t from her nakedness or closeness to him. Christ, what if he’d said it? What if he’d ruined their friendship? What if he’d fucked everything up?

Jason cleared his throat before speaking again. “Time to rinse, sweetheart.”

“So soon? Kind of a shitty return favor, Todd,” she chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning in close to her ear. He determined he was probably possessed because God, he couldn’t stop this, not even if someone had a gun to his head. “There’s more in store for you.”

“Oh?” She sounded surprised. 

When Jason spoke next, he made sure each syllable allowed his lips to trace over the shell of her ear. “I have many other ways to pamper you, love.”

A gasp, so delightfully soft, fluttered from her mouth. He absolutely adored that sound. “I look forward to seeing what you have in store for me.”

With both hands clasped firmly over her hips, he guided her to the shower head. “Hot enough for you?”

“Yes,” she sighed, leaning into his hands. One moved back up to her scalp to tease away any persistent bubbles, but the other maintained its firm grip on her pliant skin. 

When all of the shampoo was washed out, Jason swiped her thick locks over her right shoulder. He just couldn’t help himself anymore.

“What are you-” she broke off into a low moan when he placed an open-mouthed kiss at the nape of her neck. His right hand wound itself in her hair, his left tightly gripped to her hip, pinning her against the wall. 

Cheekily, he bit into her shoulder. She gasped and edged into him. Her ass rubbed against his cock and Jason couldn’t stop a groan erupting from his mouth. It hummed across her skin, demanding to be felt. 

Jason left searing kiss after searing kiss over her back and neck and shoulders. Soon, her skin was a mosaic of pink and lavender petals, all from him. His mouth curved into a wicked grin against her shoulder blade, where he was sucking his newest mark. _She’s fucking mine_ , he thought, and then immediately regretted it. 

He left softer, more affectionate kisses all along the agitated areas as if to apologize for the mere idea of her belonging to him. Or anyone else for that matter. 

Soothing her hair into a single ponytail he could easily grip, he angled her head to the side. Jason skimmed his open mouth up the side of her neck, roughly palming her breasts with the hand previously occupied with her hip. When he grazed his teeth over her pulse, he drank in her moan. Afterwards, he lifted his mouth when the shock of that sudden wave of possessiveness registered in full. 

As if to tease, Jason ran the tip of his tongue from the angle of her jaw all the way down her shoulder. Her honeyed giggle was more than enough of a reward. 

“Turn around, love.” 

“Someone’s pushy,” she teased but listened. Her arms moved to rest loosely around his neck; Jason took in the unblemished canvas of her front, ready to paint it with his lips.

But where to start, where to start?

With his hand still knotted in the thick mane of her hair, Jason tugged her head back. The pleasant arch of her neck welcomed his hungry mouth. For one full minute of bliss, his lips roamed the expanse. Red bloomed all over her throat as he pulled away. He didn’t have time to fully admire his work, yet; Jason had other things to focus his attention on. 

Namely, he needed to fucking touch her breasts or else he’d lose his mind. 

Jason kissed over her chest lovingly; he savored the taste of her skin. Suckling one nipple, swirling his tongue around the little bud there, he felt like he wanted to end every day with his mouth latched onto her breast. He trailed down to her navel, where he placed a loose circle of pecks. 

It was at her hips that Jason started back up again with the harsher bites of his teeth. Angry red marks dotted the wake of his mouth, which he soothed with long sucks and softer licks. He wanted to leave spots, wanted to kiss her enough times that she’d never forget it, wanted her to look in the mirror and see where he had been and blush with the memory, as selfish as it was. 

When he finally spread her legs to see her pearly gates of heaven, Jason came to the realization that he had never been this fucking aroused in his life. His cock throbbed with need and want. 

“Love, is this okay?” Jason murmured up. She nodded, eyes tightly closed. “I need verbal affirmation, sweetheart.”

 _Tell me I’m crazy_ , Jason almost pleaded. _Tell me that I’m out of line and that you love someone else and that this kind of behavior is off limits between us._ And at the same time, he wanted her to tell him she loved him and wanted him and needed him and him _alone_. 

Transfixed, he watched her swallow. “ _Please_ , Jay.”

His cock trembled at both the rough sound and the implication of her words. 

_Okay_ , he told himself. _Worship her like she’s never been before; make her want to moan your name and your name only_. 

He started with little nips on the inside of her thighs, loving the way her legs trembled. He edged closer and closer, to where he could just begin to taste her lovely nectar. Just to make sure she didn’t fall, he braced the backs of her knees with his hands. Then, he focused on the main attraction.

Jason slowly licked up her slit in one fluid motion. His eyes rolled into his head at her taste: pleasantly sweet with a little tang, and absolutely delicious. Her hands wound themselves tightly in his hair, tugging at the roots hard enough to sting; he didn’t mind the pain, instead grinning into her heat. She was utterly demanding of him and he loved it. 

Water traced down her body, some droplets from her breasts landing on his face. He wanted to lick every drop of it off of her body once they got out. 

Wrapping his lips around her clit, Jason was immediately rewarded with a loud and hoarse moan. He swiped the tip of his tongue over it just to feel her shudder again. 

“Don’t tease.” It was the breathiest he’d ever heard her voice get, and it had his cock twitching at the sound. 

“When you say it like that,” he paused, placing the softest kisses he could along her outer lips, “It just makes me want to do it more.” 

Jason ran his tongue over that little bundle of nerves one more time, before sucking on it hard. She cried out his name and arched into him. Her legs trembled beneath his hands. 

“Say my name like that again, love.” He didn’t even recognize how deep his voice had gotten or how gravelly an order it was. He looked up at her with both expectancy and awe, like she was some divinity and he was her faithful servant. A pleasant little blush dusted her cheeks. She _had_ to be an angel to look so completely heavenly. 

Finally, she met his gaze beneath heavily-lidded eyes. Christ, her eyelashes were so long and thick—Jason wondered how they would feel brushing against his neck in the morning. With the same sinful smile she wore when initially sauntering over to him, she murmured, “You seem perfectly capable of making me do it yourself, _love_.”

Something in his gut dropped pleasantly at the term of endearment. Maybe she wasn’t an angel after all. That just made Jason’s heart ache for her more. 

He thrust his tongue into her soft folds. Her gasp wasn’t quiet this time; neither was the “ _Jason-!_ ” that tore from her throat and sent a wave of lust echoing down his cock. It thrust forward, seeking relief, and just barely grazed her ankle. 

“Not so loud,” he murmured against her, relishing at how she squirmed against his lips. In reality, he wanted her to scream loud enough for Roy to hear—hell, loud enough for fucking Clark Kent to hear—just so everyone knew he was the only person that could make her do so. As soon as the thought wriggled into his brain, Jason felt guilty. 

Still, the idea cemented itself in his head. He _needed_ to know if he was the only one more than he’d needed anything else before. 

Jason stopped mouthing into her heat, enjoying how she squirmed and huffed at his absence. He hummed, pressing his lips to the side of her thigh. When he looked up, her neck was arched up and her eyes were closed. “You ever do this with anyone else, love?”

“What?” she murmured, dazed. 

Jason blew a breath over her exposed heat. He didn’t know what he’d do if she said yes. “Have you ever had fun in the shower or bath like this?” 

“ _No_.” 

One word. It was a throaty moan and it doused his body in pure fire. That was all he needed. She’d never done this with anyone, she’d never teased someone else in a bubble bath or been fucking eaten out while a shower head doused her chest, and it made him grin. 

She was his, at least for the moment. Jason could live with that. 

“Love,” he nearly groaned. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hear and feel and taste her as she came into his mouth. “Rest your legs on my shoulders, okay? I’ll support you.”

He left out the ' _I'_ _ll always support you_.’ That was cheesy, and as far as Jason was concerned, they were just fucking and weren’t in an actual romantic relationship.

With help from him, her thighs surrounded his head. Heaven—if he died with his head crushed between her legs, he’d die a happy man. 

Jason wasted no time devouring her. He kissed and licked and sucked, every now and then leaving a small love bite on her thighs just to wind her up a little more. She was active too—every thrust into her was met with small, trembling ruts into him. When she came, Christ, he’d never tasted anything better than her sweetness. He plunged his tongue into her pussy just to get every last drop of it. Her legs clamped around him; her fingers twisted hard in his hair; best of all, she whimpered his name like it was the only word she knew. 

If she kept saying his name like that, he might just cum to the sound of her voice alone. 

Jason trailed loosely-scattered pecks over her dewy skin on his way back up. Their lips crashed together when he was standing again; to compensate for her lack of balance, he pushed her against the wall. 

Her fingers, still laced in his hair, tugged him in. For a split second, he felt the lovely sting of her teeth bubbling over his lower lip. And as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Jason realized that he was probably going to hell for this. 

What about her and Roy? What about the thing they so obviously had going on? What was he doin-

She pulled away with a sultry giggle. Without even realizing, Jason’s head followed hers, seeking out her lips like she was his air. He wasn’t even ashamed of it. “You’re so good with your tongue, Jay.”

“Yeah?” The compliment tore right through him. The thoughts about how he was a shitty friend still echoed in his head, but the way she looked at him, pupils blown wide and holding the entire galaxy in them, softened the sting. 

“Mhmm.” Jason wished he had a camera so he could capture how brilliantly she smiled at him. “I’ll have to return that favor later. What do you think about that?”

His cock thrust into her belly at the mere mention of it. He thought about her sweet mouth wrapped tightly around him, eyes lightly cloaked beneath her long lashes and meeting his, a sinful smirk on her lips. “Fuck,” he moaned out loud. 

“I take it you like that idea?” She murmured innocently. Christ, she was going to be the (second) death of him. 

“Love, if you did that, I’d-” His voice broke, so thick with want that he could barely choke the words out. “Hell, I think I’d die from pleasure right there.”

She arched an eyebrow, kissing along his jaw so he could occasionally feel the tip of her tongue. “Maybe I won’t then. I’ll need you to eat me out like that again.”

Again? The thought of tasting her again let loose a garbled moan he’d been trying to hold back. He wouldn’t mind another literal or figurative bite of her. “I can do it right now if you want, love.”

She rutted her hips against his, searching for friction. When she found none, she huffed in frustration. His cock, now poking her hard in the stomach, demanded to be recognized. The feeling of her skin touching him there made Jason tremble ever so slightly against her. 

“As absolutely heavenly as that sounds,” she smiled up at him, before untangling one of her hands from his hair. He nearly cursed at the loss, but when her fingertips found his balls and started tracing smooth patterns over them, Jason groaned instead. “I think _le petit Jason_ down here needs a little attention too.”

Shit, she sounded so sexy when she used French. 

He braced open-mouthed on her shoulder, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of her skin on his. Slowly, softly, her hand moved up to the shaft before giving the full length of him a firm pump. He pushed into her hand, begging for more contact. 

Jason’s mouth slanted over the place where her neck met her shoulder. One of his hands cupped the opposite side of his face so he could press his lips further into her. His tongue traced over the soft skin, reveling at how the water droplets, sweetened from resting on her body, mixed with her sweat and melted on it. He sucked hard to get every last drop. The action was rewarded with a small gasp and a tightening in the hand around his cock. 

“Jay,” she hissed when he kissed a heated trail up to the shell of her ear. It was quickly becoming his main objective to leave as many love bites as possible. 

“Yes, love?” he murmured. She pumped down his length again, the tip of her thumb running over the slit on his head. 

“I need you.” 

Something sharp and hot pounded from his throat all the way to the tip of his cock. Who was he to deny her?

His hands moved from her neck and waist to her ass. “Legs around me, then.” 

She complied, letting him lift her up and crossing her ankles neatly behind his back. She pulled him in until he could feel the warmth and wetness from her pussy brushing against him. 

Slid between her muscular legs, his cock slickened against her heat. Jason harshly bit into her shoulder to muffle the moan crawling from his throat. Condom, they needed a condom-

A loud knock on the door made both of them jump. “Jaybird! Stop wasting all the hot water. Some of us still have to shower tonight.”

 _Roy._ Jason glanced at her to gauge her reaction, and when he saw her forehead knit with worry, his stomach dropped. Her legs uncurled from his waist, and his cock was quickly reintroduced to a cruel world without her pussy right over it. 

“It’s me, Roy,” she called out. That damned bottom lip was caught beneath her teeth again, and Jason was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to kiss her senseless.

“Ah,” he said with a bit of an awkward pause. “Sorry. I didn’t hear Jay get out, so I just assumed-”

“Don’t worry about it.” She might have laughed to sound normal, but her eyes darted nervously over to his. “Y’know how Jason is,” How Jason is? His heart nearly fucking flatlined, “-so stealthy, even at home. Anyways, is the Thai food almost here?”

Roy chuckled at that. Jason’s gut knotted. “Always so hungry, huh, sunshine? It’s about fifteen minutes away.”

He clenched his jaw at ‘sunshine.’ _I_ _'m_ _in here!_ Jason wanted to scream. _I’m in here and we’re fucking; I’m in here and_ you _aren’t._ But he couldn’t, he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t because what if he ruined her happiness and what if she actually did run to Roy?

And there she was, her lovely neck littered with the hickeys he branded to her skin not five minutes ago, sighing in relief because their friend had bought the lie. She wasn’t even aware of the struggle the last two weeks had been, wasn’t even aware of how long he’d loved her for, wasn’t even aware that he was boiling over with shame and love and hate. 

“Okay, I’ll be out by then. Thanks, Roy.” 

The two of them listened as Roy’s heavy footsteps tramped to somewhere down the hall; they stood far apart, like if they were touching or near each other Roy would suddenly _know_. Her shoulders slumped into what Jason guessed was relief when they couldn’t hear him anymore, but he felt no such thing. If anything, he felt like his world was turned on its head. 

Christ, it was killing him. He had to know. 

“So. You ‘nd Roy?” Jason managed to croak out. Real fucking subtle. It sounded pitiful even to him. 

Her eyes squinted in confusion. “What?”

“You guys seem _awfully_ close.” He winced at how much emphasis he put on ‘awfully’ and at how needy he sounded because of it. She had to have thought he was some clingy bastard with attachment issues now. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She rested tightly clenched fists on her hips. Sexy, especially with the ladybug-spots of his kisses littering her body. “You had your head between my legs two fucking minutes ago. Hell, we were just about to _fuck_ , Jason.”

Yes, his tongue _and_ his cock remembered the experience (and would certainly encourage him to remember it later in the solitude of his own room). What did that have to do with anything? 

“So?” he sputtered. 

“ _So_ ,” she frowned, taking a step closer. “Why would I let you do that if I had feelings for Roy?”

The confidence she’d exerted fizzled out all at once when she fully realized what she’d said. Her face flushed with red, and he found himself liking the color on her. She stepped back, a trembling hand turning the water off. 

“Hold on, so you-” he started. She was out of the shower before he could finish. “Wait-!” 

“You should probably. . . take care of your little problem down there before you come out,” she muttered. For a second, her eyes flicked down to his cock; Jason swore he saw something like want flutter across her face. 

_God, please_. 

She looked at him like she wanted to say something more but didn’t. Her clothes were yanked on in a minute—Jason had neither the time nor the wits to privately mourn the loss in that moment—and then she was out the door. At least she’d smell like him. 


	3. Revenge and The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part III: Thank you for all of the amazing comments; they bring a smile to my face whenever I read them! In other news, the miscommunications continue. . . as does the sex. I hope y'all enjoy this next chapter (there's a lot more to come) :)

The only thought racing through her head as she hastily exited the bathroom was ‘ _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the_ **_fuck_**.’

When she got to the safety of her bedroom, she slammed the door shut. She told herself to breathe, to think back to the beginning so she could maybe figure out what the fuck just happened; a kind of nervous fire that set her nerves ablaze made it nearly impossible to do so. That, and the fact that she’d just had one of the best orgasms in her life. Those two factors muddied up her thoughts pretty badly. 

Jason had just eaten her out. Jason had just _eaten her out_. She’d touched his cock— _yeah, that fucking happened_ , she reminded herself—and then she’d essentially _begged_ him to take her right then and there. And somehow all of those abso-fucking-lutely bonkers occurrences weren’t even the cherry on top, because Jason Peter Todd, after _fucking eating her out_ and getting ready to _fuck her in the fucking shower_ , apparently thought that she and Roy had a thing. 

Like, _what_? 

God, she loved that boy to the moon and back but she swore he’d had too many concussions in (both of) his lifetime(s). 

Her and Roy. _Her_ and _Roy_? Roy was a great guy and all, and was for sure her ideal type of friend, but as a lover? _Roy?_ Not her type in the slightest. 

Jesus Christ, this was a mess. And it was all her fucking fault for following Selina’s shitty advice. If Bruce didn’t love the woman so much and if Bruce wouldn’t beat her to blood oatmeal, then she’d for sure skin the damned leather-enthused cat that started this whole mess. 

Christ, and now she had to face him after he had his head between her legs. This was a fucking nightmare. 

She changed her clothes, first, because she knew she wanted to be covered head to toe in warmth; that, and Roy would know something was up if she wore the clothes she’d worn all day after a shower. Green and grey striped pajama pants, along with the biggest hoodie she had, became her weapons of choice. 

Briefly, she wondered if talking to Jay before dinner would be a good idea; they could get some sort of a story straight, maybe she could apologize for both the original and sequel to their risque behaviors, and maybe they could fix this before it blew up in both of their faces. Then, she thought about how his mouth had trailed over her body and blushed. There was no way she’d be able to focus on what needed to be said with him looking so goddamn delicious in her mind. That, and they had maybe five minutes before the food arrived. 

She smacked herself in the cheeks as if to wake her up. Now was not the time to be horny or love-struck or whatever else she was. Now was the time to be strong. 

Yeah, that resolution was all well and good, but it lasted maybe twenty seconds. 

When she walked out and saw Jason also leaving his room down the hall, she bolted. Their eyes had met for a brief second, and she was shocked by the hurt and resignation swirling in the depths of his blue. She wanted to kick herself for being so stupid and rude; at the same time, she knew if she stopped she might very well pin him against a wall and finish what they started. 

Dinner was awkward to say the least. 

She couldn’t look at him without remembering how he’d eaten her out or how his eyes closed when she stroked him or how awestruck he’d looked when she said she needed him. With the way her face straight up fucking burned, she was sure she resembled a tomato. 

“Movie night?” Roy asked. He looked between her and Jason, no doubt sensing something was off, but unable to tell exactly what. She just hid behind her damp hair and nodded. 

They picked some shitty action movie they’d all be able to make fun of. She shivered, because Jason was still looking at her like he wanted to say a million things; she sat on the far side of the couch, wanting him to both snuggle up next to her and to stay as far away as possible. He did the latter and her heart plummeted somewhere into her stomach. Roy took a seat between them. 

Jason’s words at the end of their little liaison stuck in her mind; ‘ _You ‘nd Roy? . . . You guys seem_ awfully _close_.’ She snuck a glance at Roy and then Jay, wondering how her feelings could have been misconstrued; she was pretty damn sure Roy knew she loved Jason (she wasn’t exactly inconspicuous about her pining), and yet the person she actually loved was completely clueless to her affection. _She’d invited him into a fucking bath with her_. Sure, she’d run out because she was pretty sure he didn’t feel the same depth of feelings that she did, but she’d still made a painfully obvious move. 

A knock at the door caused her to jump. Roy said that he’d take care of the payment—she insisted she at least pay for the tip. When Roy declined, her eyes darted over to Jason; his jaw was clenched and his fists were clasped tightly against his sides. 

Was he misinterpreting her interactions with Roy, even now? 

She was half aggravated because Jason was supposed to be trained in reading people, in understanding inflection and body language, and yet here he was, seeing too much into her clearly _platonic_ relationship with their friend; the other half of her was cautiously optimistic—if she didn’t know any better, she swore Jason was genuinely jealous, which could mean he, dare she even think it, reciprocated her feelings. 

Thoughtfully, she sipped the broth of her kuay tiew phet. The savory flavor spiked with cinnamon melted on her tongue as she only partly paid attention to the cheap spy thriller flickering across the screen. 

Previously, she’d had the hypothesis that Jason was at the very least attracted to her sexually. Which, she guessed was better than nothing, but still stung. When reflecting on the earlier events of that night, however, she realized that there might be something else there. 

For one, the past few weeks, he’d given her space. Originally, she’d thought that it was because he hated her for leaving so suddenly; now, she interpreted it as him respecting her boundaries because he was that considerate and receptive to her obvious discomfort. 

Then, in the shower, he’d been so sweet (and fucking sexy) when he kissed over her neck and back and chest and hips. He’d treated her skin like fine art at times, but he’d also been nippy and exciting at others. And the way he’d eaten her out? It was unfair how lovely he was at it; sweetly, he’d made her cum like she was being worshiped by his tongue. 

Maybe, just maybe, she’d have to tweak her hypothesis. She prayed she was that lucky, at the very least.

“I’m going to head to bed now,” she said halfway through the movie. While Roy and Jason’s occasional jokes and criticisms were fun to listen to, her head was too tired from spinning around in the carousel of (probably) unrequited love. 

“‘Night,” Jay said with the slightest frown. 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Roy teased. 

Normally, she’d flip him off for treating her like a kid. That night, however, she just didn’t have the energy. She just shuffled down the hall in a hazy stupor. 

As she laid in bed, she begged her mind not to think about Jason or her or them or anything relating to that. She fell asleep with the wonderful and terrible thought that she smelled like Jason’s shampoo and tried not to touch herself because of it. 

* * *

Instead of sandalwood and mint, she woke up to the smell of bacon. Roy was on breakfast duty. She sighed, and her immediate thought was if Jason was able to sleep okay. 

She groaned. Ah, fresh hell. She put her hair up and changed into a T-shirt to better prepare for the day. 

When she stepped into the kitchen, Roy took one look at her before dropping the cast iron pan in his hand. The sound wrecked her eardrums, and she knew that the residents below them would complain later. “Jesus Christ!”

“What?” It was too fucking early in the morning for this. 

“Were you mauled by a bear or something? What the fuck happened to your neck?!” he shouted. 

Her hand flew to her throat. Practically running to the bathroom, she saw herself in the mirror; from the corner of her jaw all the way down to the neckline were specks of purple and red—when she yanked it down, she saw _more_ , along with a fucking _bite mark_ on her shoulder. She came to the realization as she stomped back to the kitchen that she was going to kill Jason. 

Said undead-about-to-be-dead-again man came out into the kitchen upon hearing all the ruckus. Bleary-eyed with crazy bed-head, he looked pissed to be up before nine. “What are you two fucking shouting about so early in the morning?” His eyes landed on her and he cursed. Loudly. “Oh, shit.”

“Right?” Roy exclaimed. 

Jason coughed, not looking her straight in the eye. “How’d uh, how’d that happen?”

Oh yeah, she was totally going to castrate him for this later. Not to mention he was a shit liar when they needed to be covering up their sexcapades. The one person outside of this fucked-up inside joke looked to her for an explanation; she knew Jason couldn’t possibly cover for her without making it blatantly obvious what had happened the previous night. 

Fuck her life. 

“Um, well, last night,” she started. Fuck, she was a shit liar too. “I went out to meet with this friend of mine from high school. He hit me up pretty late, like one in the morning? We got mildly drunk and may have kind of hooked up too.”

She winced. That was a weak as fuck answer. 

Roy looked suspicious. “I didn’t hear you go out? Did you, Jay?”

“I think I did?” he mumbled. When Jason saw the scowl she flashed his way, he continued, “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard her come back, too.”

At least Jason had helped her there. Kind of. 

“Why’d you agree to go out so late?” Roy asked once he seemed semi-satisfied with Jason’s cover up. Mom-friend mode: activated. She should have known he would take this humorlessly. 

She took a discreet deep breath to get her pulse under control. Meeting his gaze evenly like she’d been taught to when lying, she said, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen him, and, well, I missed talking to him. He and I were really great friends back in the day.”

That last part wasn’t much of a lie. She and Jason really had been good friends before she decided to fuck everything up; they’d talked about everything and nothing; they’d told stupid jokes and made fun of Bruce while on patrol; they’d held each other late into the night when the other was in tears and needed an anchor amidst the storm. 

“Were?” Roy asked again. Damn, not just mom-friend mode, but interrogation mode too. “You two ‘were’ such great friends?”

“Yeah. And are, too, I guess now.” She shuffled her feet, still meeting Roy’s skeptical gaze. Another partial truth; she looked at Jason and saw the gears turning in his head. Finally ( _finally_ ) he might see just how much she cared about him and connect the fucking dots. As much as she would love to be in a relationship with him—provided that he felt the same about her—their friendship was what ultimately mattered the most. 

“Okaaaay,” Roy said. His eyes squinted into wary crescents. “He didn’t _try anything_ , right?”

Another deliberate look cast over to Jason. “No, it was consensual. I wanted it as much as he did.”

“And did he respect you, sunshine?” Roy asked. A dangerous glint that said ‘ _I_ _’ll disassemble his rib-cage if not_ ’ shimmered in his eyes. He was always so fiercely protective of them. She inwardly snickered. If only he knew that the guy he was threatening to fight for her was in the same room as them.

She couldn’t stop her mouth from curling up into a smile; her eyes flicked over to Jason’s for a minute before returning to Roy’s. “Oh, for sure. He was the perfect gentleman, aside from the hickeys, of course.”

“Was he good?” Jason asked this time, a determined and ironic arch in his eyebrows. What a little _shithead_. 

“Gross, dude,” Roy wrinkled his nose at his friend. “Like, what the fuck, Jay?”

She glared pointedly at him as if to agree. _Yeah, Jay, what the_ actual _fuck?_

Jason just grinned at her. She flushed red at that damned devilish look in his eyes; it made heat pool within her stomach, and she knew she’d have to change underwear later. “We’ve gotta make sure this guy was good to her, right? So tell me, did he let you cum first, or-”

Roy chucked an oven mitt at his head. “Jason!” That was all well and good, until he turned to her. “Did he actually, though, or not? Because I _will_ hunt him down for you for being such a dickhead.”

“Um,” she licked her lips. “Well, we sort of got _interrupted_.” 

“Oh?” Jay asked with that shit-eating grin of his like he didn’t already know the story. She almost begged Roy to throw something heavier than an oven mitt at him. 

She met his eyes, refusing to back down despite her face undoubtedly glowing red. “Aside from being a total _ass_ ,” Jason chuckled lowly at the accusation, whereas Roy just looked confused, “he let me finish first. And when we were interrupted, he was a. . . good sport about it.”

Christ, there had to be a better way to put it. She winced at her mediocre phrasing. When she met Jason’s eyes, she found a self-satisfied glimmer amidst the sea of blue. She had to check his ego before he let it go to his head.

“But,” she said suddenly. “He could have done better on the foreplay. That, and he teased a little too much, and was _way_ too cocky for his own good.”

Jason’s eyes squinted, not so much with a hurt expression but as an ‘ _Oh, really, that’s how you want to play?_ ’ They both knew she’d enjoyed every second of last night. The wicked upturn of his lips made her shiver; payback was imminent. 

Roy whistled. “We’ve got to meet the guy. Rough ‘im up a little, right, Jaybird?” 

Jason only nodded, looking deep in thought. Probably scheming, the bastard. His eyes were glued to her neck. If she wasn’t head over heels for him, she probably would have challenged him to a good old fashioned duel for being such a prick. 

“Well,” she said brightly, trying to ignore the pointed stares Jason was sending her way. “I’ve got a meeting in Gotham that I need to go to. I don’t think I have time to eat breakfast, so I’ll be on my way-”

“Ooh,” Roy sang with a raised eyebrow. “Gonna go see your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And no. I’ve a job interview with the Gotham Gazette, Roy. The vigilante lifestyle doesn’t exactly always pay the bills.” She rolled her eyes. 

“How’re you gonna get a job looking like someone tried to inhale your neck?” Roy asked, genuinely concerned. At least _someone_ ( _cough_ , not Jason, c _ough_ ) was taking this incident seriously. 

She winced, thinking about all the concealer she’d need to buy, or else wear an absurdly large turtleneck sweater. “I’ll find a way.”

 _After I tear Jason a new one for making me_ have _to find a way_ , she thought. 

She grabbed a breakfast bar from the pantry, and, after sending Jason one last secretive but scalding glare, headed back to her room. She both hated and loved the competitive and, dare she say, turned-on glint in his eyes; right now, however, she had to focus on fixing this God awful mess she’d _technically_ made. 

Right, it was her fault that all this had started, after all. _Fuck_. 

With the granola bar hanging half out of her mouth, she tugged out some wardrobe options: grey dress shirt, black pants suit; cream dress shirt, navy pencil skirt; lavender blouse, light grey dress pants. She thought for a moment. The pants suit option might be a bit too rigid-looking but it would cover up most of the love bites on her chest and shoulders; she’d only need to worry about putting concealer on her neck and jaw, which might even be sparingly if she kept her hair down. 

Before she could really pick an adequate outfit, though, she had to see the real damage. Popping the final bite of her breakfast into her mouth, she turned to the mirror and stripped off her tee. Purple smudges and red marks and pink spots dotted along her throat, down her breasts—she was pretty sure she saw some peeking out from her waistband—and when she turned, she saw that the nape of her neck and upper back also hadn’t been spared. She glared at her mirror. 

As much as a very small (it was actually kind of a large) part of her found it attractive that Jason had marked her so desperately, it was completely unnecessary. 

Someone knocked on her door. Hastily, she scrambled to put her shirt back on. Once it was, she called out, “Come in.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jason said with that infuriatingly sexy grin of his. Curse him and his slightly stubbled jaw and his gorgeous fucking eyes and his stupidly attractive face and his adorably floofy hair. 

“Jason,” she said with a furious edge to her voice despite kind of undressing him with her eyes. 

“So, _he_ could have done better on the foreplay?” Jay asked from her doorway. Resting casually with his elbow leaned against the wall, he looked almost amused. “And _he_ teased a little too much? Too cocky, too, huh? What a shame; I thought he sounded like a nice guy. And sexy, too.” 

“Shut the door, Jason,” she muttered. “Did Roy see you come in here?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ rather loudly. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, she stomped over to him. He allowed himself to be cornered against the door, not looking scared in the slightest. “What the actual fuck, Jason? Leaving marks like that? I have an interview today!” 

“To be fair, I didn’t know,” he said with a shrug.

Oh God. She couldn’t fucking believe how nonchalant he was being about this. “Even if you didn’t know about it, we also live with another person. We also _aren’t_ together, and we also aren’t technically seeing _other people_. Leaving marks like this-” she gestured sharply at her neck and chest “-is totally suspicious.”

“I would have left more had we not been interrupted, sweetheart.” Had she not been so absolutely livid, she would have fully registered the dropping in her stomach from the huskiness of his voice. It wasn’t fucking fair that he could turn her on while still pissing her off. 

Her hand wound itself in his shirt, pulling him close. Beneath low eyelids, Jason’s bright blue eyes almost glowed in the dimness of the room. He still didn’t look worried. If anything, he looked turned on. _That son of a bitch_. 

With a single firm tug, she crashed his lips into hers. Their teeth knocked together, and she drank in the hiss that tore from him. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, enjoying how easily he welcomed her; she could taste the bitter coffee still on his lips. His hands clutched at her shirt, riding it up. Their warmth shocked her enough to break away from the kiss for just a second. 

Like hell she’d let him off the hook that easily. She kissed him again, making sure to bite _hard_ on his lower lip. He groaned, his hands crushing against her waist. The hand not occupied with his shirt dug into the back of his neck, pushing him into her more. For once, he was almost malleable, allowing her to tug and push and bite and suck at his body and mouth in her anger; either he was letting her burn herself out, was enjoying the intensity, or both. 

When she finally pulled away to breathe, she cursed. Jason grinned like the cat that got the cream. His erection poked her in the belly. 

She’d have to wipe that smile straight from his stupidly attractive face, then. 

Very nearly ripping the shirt in half in her effort to get it off, she threw it to the ground. As it was, she greatly stretched the fabric. 

"That was a perfectly good shirt, love,” Jason teased out, his pupils blown wide. 

She bit out a terse “How unfortunate” before roughly grazing her teeth over his shoulder. His skin tasted salty, probably from sweat and arousal, and she found herself liking it. She sucked harder over the area, trying to taste as much as she could.

“What-” Jason started, his voice cracking as she mouthed up his neck. Her canines toyed with the edge of his jaw, nipping here and there before her lips soothed the bites. When she smelled the faint remnants of his shampoo, she remembered how wet she’d been falling asleep. “What happened to not leaving marks?”

“I at least have tact, and won’t leave any where they’ll be easily seen,” she said into his skin. 

His hands shifted farther up, settling on her ribs so his thumbs skimmed the undersides of her breasts. That seemed to give him more leverage as he found his previously bated breath. “Funny, because I wouldn’t mind a couple of visible love bites, sweetheart. _Especially_ from you.”

“I don’t remember you being so snarky last night,” she muttered. Her teeth latched onto his earlobe; a curse stole from Jason’s mouth. 

“It’s part of my charm,” he said. His thumbs, having inched up significantly, finally smoothed over her budded nipples. She grunted, her hips pecking forward in some vain attempt to find friction. Fuck, she was supposed to be giving him hell, not the other way around. 

She pulled away, glaring at him. With a smirk tugging up the corners of her mouth, she said, “I’m so glad we both agree you weren’t very charming yesterday, then.”

“You’re cute when you’re worked up,” he grinned at her. 

She grit her teeth and palmed his erection with a vengeance. He shuddered, hands settling back on her waist as he struggled to support himself. 

Again, she slanted her mouth over his. He met her with equal zeal, though his hooded eyes looked amused. The near-luminescent blue of his irises mocked her. Her unoccupied hand scraped down his front, careful over the scars and sharp over the skin still left unscathed. 

This time, every millimeter her tongue entered in his mouth, he fought back, making it difficult for her to teach him a much-needed lesson. She remembered the feeling of his mouth on her heat and deepened the kiss. The hand over his clothed cock dipped slightly into his boxers, reveling in the intense warmth burning beneath her fingertips. 

Jason hummed into her mouth, his stupid, arrogant, beautiful eyes finally closing. 

Using the tip of her knee, she brushed the underside of his cock through his pants. A strangled sound cried from Jason’s throat, his hands clasping around her tighter. Undoubtedly, when she looked later that night, she’d have little crescents from where his nails cut into her. For some reason, she didn’t care. 

If anything, it spurred her hand to venture into his underwear completely. She felt the smooth, hot shaft of his cock against her fingertips and moaned into his mouth to get him going. It had the desired effect; she felt his cock jump at the sound. With a careful palm, she clasped around it. The feeling was exhilarating despite not being her first time touching him here. 

He bucked into her hand and groaned into her mouth. Slowly she pumped along the shaft, and with her other hand she felt up his abs and chest with teasingly light scratches of her nails. She broke away from this kiss, relishing at the dazed and somehow deprived glint in his hooded blue eyes. His head fell to her shoulder. 

Jason braced with his mouth open against her skin there. The bite stung, and seeing as the hand that was clutched in his T-shirt was now free, she tugged his hair back with it.

“No marks,” she said. Her grip lessened to the point where she just barely skimmed along him. His cock thrusted forward in an attempt to make up for the lost contact but ultimately failed. She was in control here, and he’d do well to fucking remember it.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Fuck, okay.” 

She continued pumping his shaft, feeling every inch of his cock and making mental notes of where he moaned the loudest, and how to touch him to raise that moan up an octave. If she ran her thumb over the head to rub precum on it, his hands trembled over her skin; if she followed the vein along the side with the tip of her finger, a pleasured sound growled in his throat; if she tightened her grip just slightly around the base, he bucked forward wildly. 

Deciding that this wasn’t enough, she took her hand out from his pants. He pushed his cock forward, seeking for more friction but only finding what little his boxers had to offer. 

“Love,” Jason panted. His head still pulled back, he could only look down at her. “Please.”

Having Jason begging was something she loved; she wanted him to beg louder. She spit into her hand and relished the red that bloomed across his skin when he watched. That red almost turned purple when she shoved her hand down his pants again and started stroking him with her slick palm. 

“Fuck!” Jason’s head pushed back into her hand; she thanked God she had it fisted there or he would have loudly knocked his skull against the door. 

“I need one of your hands, Jason.”

“What?” 

She licked her lips and opened her mouth with a grin. Jason gulped. “Forefinger, in my mouth. Now.”

He did as he was told with only a weak nod. 

She sucked hard on it, mimicking the action by gripping his cock tighter and pulling on it. All the while, she maintained eye contact, watching as his beautiful irises disappeared beneath heavy lids and thick eyelashes once more. “Yes, God, _please_ yes, sweetheart.”

His finger was large and thick in her mouth—she wondered how it would feel curling inside of her. She hummed a moan at the thought; the feeling vibrated through his finger and his mouth opened. On her hand’s journey back up to the tip of his cock, she tightened her grip ever so slightly. 

The tip of her thumb felt along the ridge of the head, drawing little loops as the palm of her hand continued to provide teasing pumps. Her tongue swirled over his fingertip, and the suction in her mouth pulled it further in. 

“More,” Jason groaned. It was low and rumbly and straight from the back of his throat. The way he growled it out hardly made it sound like a word at all. 

It was her turn to be smug. She pulled back from his finger so that its tip rested on her bottom lip. “More what, love? You’ll have to articulate a little better than that.”

“More pressure.” Jason’s forehead was knit like he was in pain. “Christ, please, just give me _more_.”

She tightened her grip substantially, her nails lightly skimming along the shaft. Jason’s mouth hung wide open and no sound came out, but the way he arched into her hand was proof enough that she was doing it right. Had she looked this desperate when he had eaten her out the previous night?

Fuck, she wanted to see him cum. She wanted to see him lose his control and catapult off of the edge of ecstasy. At the same time, she wanted to bring him so deliciously close to orgasm and then stop, just to teach him a lesson. He might beg her—that thought sounded particularly appealing when she weighed it against her other options—and he might make the softest, most desperate sounds in the world. 

Her phone chimed from on the table. A phone call? Her hand slowed, and Jason whimpered out her name. “Sweet- _fuck_ , please don’t stop.”

He was close, tantalizingly close. She could tell because his hands gripped tightly enough into her hips to leave bruises and because of the way he prayed her name like some new-age god. 

“It could be important,” she said, almost adding ‘ _It serves you right for being such an ass._ ’ She was off of him in an instant, treading lightly to where her phone buzzed on the nightstand. With the same hand she’d had on his cock fifteen seconds ago, she answered. “Hello?” 

“Are you the young woman who has the 10:30 a.m. appointment with Mr. Eliot?” A prim, elderly-sounding feminine voice on the other end asked. She sucked in a breath, trying to sound like she hadn’t just been giving her close-friend-slash-love-of-her-life a handjob. Said close-friend-slash-love-of-her-life panted heavily by the door; terrified that the sound would somehow pick up over the receiver, she brought a finger to her lips to shush him. 

“This is she,” she murmured. She checked the time on her alarm clock. 9:19. If they were calling now, it couldn’t be good. 

“I’m his secretary,” the woman said. “Something came up. He has to reschedule your interview for sometime next week. Right now, next Tuesday and Wednesday before noon are available. What time and date works best for you?”

She knit her eyebrows. This was both good and bad news; good, because she wouldn’t have to buy a gallon of concealer and bad because they might have a meeting with someone who had better credentials than her. “Wednesday, also at 10:30 a.m., works for me. Though I’m rather flexible if anything else comes up.” 

Jason arched an eyebrow suggestively at the last sentence, grinning despite panting for air. She flipped him off. 

“You’re scheduled for then, now. Thank you for being so accommodating.” 

“Of course-” The line clicked off. Rude, but at least her ass was saved. 

She wasn’t in a rush now, at the very least. Granted, she hadn’t really acted like she was in a rush prior to the call, but it was one less thing to worry about. 

Her eyes flicked over to Jason, and she bit her lip at his disheveled state. Still dazed, he hadn’t moved from his place pressed up against the wall; strands of his dark hair twisted in every direction. His chest heaved, rippling his pectorals and abs, making the white stripes of scars seem to swim across his tan skin. She wanted to kiss each one better. 

“You’re so fucking lucky, Todd,” she said. Hot blood still pumped through her veins: anger and lust, though it was quickly becoming just the latter. 

“Consider it an apology, sweetheart.” Jason smiled at her. This time, there wasn’t an ounce of ego or ass left in his heated gaze. 

“You got my meeting moved?” she asked, almost bewildered. 

He shrugged like he hadn’t just saved her professional career. “I called in a favor from B. He’s taking Mr. Eliot out for the day to talk about a new donation for the Gotham Gazette.”

Her stomach sunk. She chewed on her lip. “God, what Bruce must think of me now.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I said that yesterday’s mission took a toll on you and you weren’t resting like you should. He agreed with me that it would be in your best interest not to have the meeting today.”

“That’s. . . actually pretty smart. Thanks, Jay.” And she meant it. She was still fucking livid that he had marked her up so much (Christ, like all over her chest _and_ neck _and_ back?! Was that really necessary?) but at the very least, he’d owned up to his mistake.

“I have my moments. But seriously, love, I am sorry for doing that.” Jason took in a deep, shaky breath and flashed a sincere but vulnerable smile. “I got a little carried away.”

“A little?” she asked with disbelief. 

His shoulders slumped as he conceded, wrinkling his nose. “Okay, a lot carried away.” 

She licked her lips, stalking just a few steps closer. “Jason, I think it was more than ‘a lot carried away.’ Have you seen my back?”

“Unfortunately, not today, no. Care to show me?” Ah, there it was. The dickishness was back. He really wanted to play that game? Especially right after she’d made him a begging mess up against her door? 

Wordlessly, maybe a little out of spite because she wanted him to choke on his tongue, she took off her shirt. Completely topless in front of him, Jason’s mouth hung open. She turned to show off the dozens of dots littering her shoulder blades and the back of her neck. Somehow, he managed to look both enraptured and guilty. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “If it’s any consolation, you still look ravishing.”

“Sweet talk, really?” she huffed, though her face burned. The dark look in his eyes, the way he clutched his hands, the way his chest rose and fell, all indicated that he _did_ want to ravish her. 

He cleared his throat. “You should, um, probably put your shirt back on.”

“Can’t handle it?” she teased.

“I’m worried what I might do if you keep walking around me topless.” Christ, he was shameless; he stared at her like he was already bending her over her bed. She cursed, pulse pounding in her temples as she struggled to throw on the garment. “I- I’ll get you some ice. I’ve heard that that helps with the color.”

Her eyes darted down to the very conspicuous bulge in his boxers. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to go out like that?” 

“I, oh shit,” he muttered while looking down. 

“Want me to finish you off? I’ve got the time now, after all,” she said sweetly, a joking lilt still finding its way into her voice. His face flared as he shuffled his feet awkwardly. 

“You don’t have to-”

“What if I want to?”

An unintelligible sound gurgled in his throat. His voice went up a pitch when he stuttered out an answer. “Oh, um, if you want to, then by all means. . . I’m not- I won’t stop you.” 

She didn’t need any other words. Slowly, she stepped forward, bringing a finger to her lips as she contemplated what sweet torture she wanted to inflict upon him. Weighing the pros—him saving her ass by rescheduling her meeting—with the cons—marking her so she looked like she’d been chewed by a German mastiff—she decided that he’d earned a tormenting (but merciful) finish. He flexed his hips under her scrutiny. 

When she stopped a single step away from him, he cleared his throat. “What- what’s that look for, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” she said with a twinge of _something_ that made him gulp. She knelt in front of him so she was eye-level with his cock, and she swore Jason’s eyes bugged out of his head a little. 

“You aren’t really going to. . . ?” he asked weakly. She noticed how his hands rigidly gripped the material of his boxers. 

“Not if you don’t want me to, Jay,” she murmured, and she meant it. 

He shook his head. “No, I want it— _God_ , do I want it—I just, _fuck_.”

“Think you can keep quiet?” She inched closer, smelling a heady sort of musk. Hell, the very thought of sucking him off made her belly coil up with heat. 

“I can try.”

She chuckled, tugging on his boxers. They didn’t budge from his tight grip. “You want to help a girl out?”

Jason looked rather sheepish as he untwisted his hands. Shakily, he brought them to his sides, before clenching them into tight fists. “I don’t think I’ll last long from your previous, er, _handiwork_.”

“Puns? Really?” she laughed. Flicking her eyes up, she noticed Jason looked as nervous and anticipating as she felt. “You do know you can put your hands in my hair, right?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize-” he started, but she quickly cut him off. 

“Jason,” she murmured in the most dulcet tone she could manage with the sudden nervousness engulfing her. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. Do what feels right, okay?”

He drew in a shallow breath. “Okay.”

“Can I- can I start?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. 

Slowly, like she was afraid he’d break beneath her fingertips, she pulled his boxers down. His stiff erection proved to be a bit of an obstacle—as soon as she managed to get the cloth over it, it stood proudly out in the air. At a tantalizing pace, she continued to drag his boxers down; goosebumps erupted along his muscular legs. 

Once the fabric was around his ankles, she looked back up at his cock, which twitched with need. Precum glistened along his head, and she licked her lips before softly taking the tip into her mouth. 

Bitterness, with just a hint of salt, washed over her tongue. She moaned at the taste—Christ, she could get used to sucking him off first thing in the morning. Jason seemed to enjoy the vibrations of her ministrations; his fingers wound into her hair, pulling her closer to him.

Now that he was more comfortable, she’d start with the real show. Leisurely, she allowed more of his delicious cock into her mouth. When it poked at the back of her throat, his large cock not completely swallowed, she hollowed out her cheeks in sucking; her tongue swirled along the bottom of his shaft, marveling at the satiny feel of him in her mouth. 

“Je _sus_ ,” Jason murmured. With his large hands fisted further in her hair and his head thrown back against the door, she thought he looked absolutely gorgeous. She sucked harder, bobbing her head to take more of him in as if to respond. 

When she was rewarded with a throaty groan, she pulled back, making sure to curl her tongue over the head of his cock before completely separating. Placing little mouthy kisses down his velvety length, she reveled as he tugged at her and bucked his hips. He was restless, especially after she nearly deep-throated him. She could fix that. 

As she moved back towards the tip, she playfully traced the tip of her tongue along a thick vein that ran up his side. A little kiss on the head—one where she once again tasted the slightly bitter precum dripping from his slit—and she opened her mouth to take him _all_ the way in. 

Jason cursed loudly, the latter end of it dissolving into a low, hissing kind of moan. He snapped his hips forward and she almost choked as his cock pushed down her throat. Forcing herself to breathe through her nose, she managed to take him in without many problems, though not without a chastising hum that had his fingers curling harder into her hair. 

Finishing him quickly was her next objective. She’d had her fun, teasing and playing with him, but now it was time to see him unravel. 

Her head bobbed in long pumps, always taking him in all the way to his base. One of her hands roamed over the rigid plane of his stomach, digging into his hips every now and then when he got too pushy; the other traced light circles over his balls. 

Jason coming undone was truly a sight to behold. She watched as he closed his eyes and moaned loudly—his head thudded against the door as his entire body arched into her—with his needy fingers curled in her hair, he gripped her like he was afraid he’d fall forever—looking up at him, he seemed to be carved from marble, he was so perfect. A final thrust into her yielded a hot jet of his cum into the back of her throat, which she took gladly, even sucking long after he had finished to get every last delicious drop out of him. 

She swallowed with a loud gulp. Looking up at his scarlet face—she swore his entire upper body resembled a boiled lobster—she felt satisfied that she had done a good job. “Feeling better?” 

He only nodded, his baby blues completely surrounded by white; the red of his lips was so perfectly kissable it almost hurt. “I- _fuck_ , I’ll be back with- I’ll go get the ice now.”

Jason almost walked out the door with his shirt on the ground and his boxers dangling behind one ankle and his cock out for all the world to see. She cleared her throat; he realized his state with the door cracked an inch open. She couldn’t help but giggle at the string of sharp curses fumbling out from his mouth; he looked absolutely adorable trying to hike up his underwear and put on his shirt at the same time. 

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly avoiding eye contact. She wanted to kiss every inch of his flushed skin. Instead, she licked her lips.

“No worries.”

Jason was out the door in an instant—she wondered if Roy would be able to pick up on what just happened. Between Jason’s long absence, his less-than-secretive gasps and moans, and now his exceedingly disheveled state, she felt their friend would be able to pick up on it. Then again, if Roy was busy tinkering on some new suit improvement, he might not even notice Jason’s obvious post-coital bliss.

He came back with three packs of frozen peas not two minutes later, so she barely had time to fully consider all of the factors involved. 

“Does this work?” he asked softly. At least he’d shaken out of his previous stupor. 

“Yeah, thanks.” She took them from his hands and laid down. One was designated to each side of her neck, and the remaining pack was for her chest. Jason stood by the door, looking embarrassed as he watched. When he turned to leave, she murmured, “Do you mind staying for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said, even though he looked like he did. Cautiously, he closed the door behind him. "What, um, what's on your mind right now?"

“We should probably talk about us,” she said after a moment. It was the topic she dreaded but knew had to be tackled all the same. 

Jason flinched like he’d been slapped. That didn’t bode well for her. In a shaky voice, he said, “Yeah, we probably should.”

“Is this- this is just sex, right?”

She hated how desperate it sounded and she hated how needy it sounded and she hated how damn much it gave away. Christ, she’d left her entire heart exposed on a platter for him, and now she just had to wait for him to accept it or throw it to the wolves.

Jason swallowed, pausing. His eyes were a hard and cold blue as he looked at her. She knew he was analyzing her somehow; even though her intentions were pretty fucking obvious, she prayed he didn't see just how much she needed him.

“Of course.”

To the wolves it was. _Fuck_. All the hope she’d built up the night before that maybe he loved her too, the way she loved him, shattered. The shards of wasted opportunities wounded her—air couldn’t make it to her lungs. 

“Okay.” She crushed her lips together in a thin line. Somehow she knew that was going to be the answer, and yet there she was, heart cracking anyway. God, what a fucking fool. She tried hard not to show how fucking hurt she was. “Sounds good to me.”


	4. Cityscapes and Crescendos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks. Here's the newest installment of the story. We've got some Roy-being-a-good-friend action going on (also Roy-being-a-little-shit action, too), which is nice because damn, things are a little hot 'n heavy. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy!

Jason couldn’t think straight. Fuck, how could he? 

The love of his life gave him a blowjob and asked him if what they were doing was just sex—there wasn’t any protocol for that. The way she phrased it—‘ _Is this- this is just sex, right?_ ’—made him think she expected it to be just sex. She looked nervous at the prospect of it not. 

He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by saying ‘ _No, actually, I’ve been in love you for over a year now and would really enjoy taking you out on a date and having long conversations at night and holding your hand on top of the prospect of sex_.’ He couldn’t do that to her, not when he was lucky enough to be her friend (friend-with-benefits, now, he guessed) and not when he knew she wouldn’t ever feel the same way about him. 

Whatever she wanted, he’d give to her. That was what he’d decided ages ago, and if she wanted just sex, he’d give it to her. She deserved the fucking world, after all. 

So, he’d steeled himself and said ‘ _Of course_ ,’ even though it punctured deep into his chest. On his end, at the very least, it would never be ‘just sex.’ He’d always feel the need and want to love her with everything he had; Jason wouldn’t be able to just _stop_ , but he’d at least pretend to. For her. Always and forever for her, if he had to.

There was just one other problem. After he’d agreed to what he thought she wanted, her face twisted up ever so slightly, like his response hurt her. Jason didn’t want to give himself false hope, but he didn’t know what to think about that; why had she looked disappointed? Could she- was it possible that she felt the same way?

Jason tried to think of a world where she loved him the way he loved her. 

He saw sleepy, fuzzy mornings where her hair was frizzy and her legs were tangled with this, the pale sun tracing streaks of gold over her skin; he saw 2 a.m. date nights at that diner four blocks away that she loved, ordering breakfast foods and looking at each other with tired, loving eyes; he saw long night drives, ones where they left Gotham and just drove around the country, sleeping in the stiff front seats of the car, looking up at the stars not drowned out by light pollution. 

He felt her soft, warm hands on his, brushing sweet designs over his calloused palms in the middle of briefings, assuring him everything would be fine; he felt her breath on his neck in the middle of the night, soft and peaceful and angelic, lulling him into a restful slumber; he felt her lips trailing over his body like he was made of china, lovingly kissing his scars better. 

He smelled her flowery shampoo late at night, her wild tresses soaked in the moon’s rays and sweetened by sleep; he smelled breakfast first thing in the morning, sharing it at the table or in bed with easy laughs and grins; he smelled the lavender fabric softener she always insisted on using mixing with the heady musk of her sweat, drowning him in sweet haze of something just so irresistibly _her_ it hurt. 

He tasted the tart pineapple soda she always bought from the bodega down the street when they stocked it; he tasted bitter morning coffee that somehow seemed honeyed because of her bright smile; he tasted her skin beneath his lips—a salty tang on her shoulder, a soft mint on her lips, a lovely balm of her sweetness—of which he would drink up greedily. 

He heard her sleepy giggles, when he’d come home late and she’d curl into him, asking him sweetly about his day; he heard her heartbeat in his ear from resting on her chest, letting the steady beat lull him into a midday nap on the couch; he heard her lovely, rushing voice saying, humming, screaming, breathing, laughing ‘ _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_. . . .’ 

Jason hated himself. He hated himself because she would never feel the same way and because he was fucking creepy for wanting those things from her and because he was torturing himself. 

It was self-induced hell and yet he continued to subject himself to it every fucking night. 

Maybe she could sense his hesitation or maybe she was secretly psychic, because she seemed to be avoiding him. Somehow, despite agreeing that they would just have sex as friends, they didn’t have much sex in the next few days. Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-mad with lust. 

Not just because she felt amazing, because hell, her fucking mouth and her fucking hands and her fucking heat were enough to drive him wild; no, it was because whenever he tried to touch himself with her in mind (which was quite frequently, if not more frequent than before this entire mess) he couldn’t fucking finish without being wholly unsatisfied. He’d get outrageously hard whenever he saw her stretching after missions or wearing pajamas while reading a book or joking with him during patrol, but whenever he was finally available to relieve himself, he couldn’t get her out of his head; his hands weren’t as soft or warm as hers, and they certainly weren’t anything like her gorgeous mouth. 

He’d cum, sure, but it wasn’t _good enough_. He needed _her_. 

Hell, she’d ruined him. 

Jason never thought he’d get to the point where he was so turned on by someone that only they could really fucking get him off. He swore he was fucking feral whenever he saw her: touch-starved, painfully hard, heart so heavy with want and need and love that it pulled him down. And all he could do was wait for her. 

Most nights, he was tempted to rap on her door, his cock tenting his boxers, and beg her for release. Hot shame prevented that thought from coming into fruition; she would come to him when _she_ needed it—Jason had promised (more to himself than to her) that he’d be at her disposal, not the other way around. He’d be damned if he let is selfishness take over, especially when she was fucking heavenly enough to even consider having sex with him. 

Hell, though, Jason wanted to mark up her neck like a fucking dog in heat. The hickeys he’d left before were mostly gone, the darkest ones only registering as light smudges against the column of her throat. He mourned their loss privately. 

He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t his. It was a chant he forced his heart to thrum day in and day out: ‘ _She isn’t yours she isn’t yours she isn’t yours_ . . .’ on and on and on until he felt like his head would fucking explode with love and guilt and need and self-hatred. No matter how much he repeated the phrase, Jason still _wanted_ her, and he probably always would. 

The only good thing to come from this _arrangement_ of theirs was that he was pretty damn sure she didn’t like Roy. 

If she’d had something like this with him, Jason would probably have noticed it. He would have noticed the stolen glances and the marks and the convenient disappearances. Besides, Roy would have said something if he did have feelings for her or if they were doing something like that. 

Looking between them in the mornings still yielded jealousy—he wanted to be the one teasing and dancing to stupid pop songs and making breakfast and laughing to dumb jokes with her. That stubborn possessive streak hadn’t left him in the slightest, but Jason could at least rest easy knowing that they still had their _agreement_ and that she hadn’t and wasn’t going to have that kind of relationship(?) with anyone any time soon. 

Her heart didn’t belong to him—nothing of hers belonged to him, in reality. He knew that wanting to have her was childish and malicious and everything in between, but God, Jason wanted to have her heart more than anything. 

She had said that she wouldn’t fool around with Jason if she was interested in Roy, right? He wanted that to mean that she was interested in him, even though it was probably far from it. 

Did her heart already belong to somebody? Was this _thing_ between them just a release to help her with pent up emotions for someone else? Christ, if she did love somebody else, who the hell was it? 

Jason tried to convince himself that he’d be a good sport about finding out who she liked; if she was happy, then he could be happy for her, right? And he did want her _happy_ , because she deserved it more than anyone else. He just sincerely wished that that happiness could be with him. 

He probably wouldn’t be so nice to the guy she loved. Or girl? Was she into girls? Fuck, he didn’t know. 

It kept him up at night. 

Seeing as Roy was no longer his competition, Jason decided he’d have to ask him about it. He’d be smooth, not suspicious in the slightest, bring it up on a patrol or a mission when she was far away from them. Yeah. . . . 

* * *

Of course, it didn’t happen quite like that. 

For one, it was a stakeout on some drug lord, so they technically weren’t supposed to talk unless it was absolutely imperative. She wasn’t with them at the very least—she was stationed on a building on the other side so they could pincer the guy if need be—but it was quiet, and if he spoke loud enough his voice would probably carry. Was he smooth? No. Was he ‘not suspicious in the slightest?’ _Hell no_. 

“Hey, uh, Roy?” Jason asked out of the blue. He tried to sound casual, but his hands shook as he readjusted his holsters for the seventh time that night. His right foot wouldn’t stop tapping against the rooftop. 

“Yeah?” Roy didn’t seem to notice how fucking nervous or desperate he was. _Yet_. 

He was going to hate himself for this in the (very near) future, but he couldn’t stop his lips from forming the words. “Do you, um, do you know if she’s interested in anyone?”

His voice shook and he stuttered like he was a damn kid again. Christ, he might as well save himself the embarrassment and just hurl himself off the building before Roy caught on. Jason thought that splattering onto the concrete below was an infinitely better option than dealing with Roy’s judgement. 

Roy thought for a moment. “Well, there’s that one guy she saw the other night.”

“The one who gave her all those hickeys?” he asked dumbly. 

“Jaybird, how many guys do you think she’s seeing?” Roy said with a laugh. If there were more than him, Jason didn’t want to know. That was a lie; he wanted to know so he could rough the guy up a little (maybe with his guns). “Yeah, that guy. It’s funny though, because I thought she was interested in someone else for the longest time.”

His stomach twisted up. Be a good sport about it? Yeah fucking right. Jealousy, that wicked snake, bit into his mind with venom, whispering awful what-ifs into his ears. He had to know who the fuck his competition was. “Who?”

“Huh?”

“Who did you think she liked?” Jason pressed harder with a little more edge to his voice. It was stronger than the trembling mess it had been before, but now it was too harsh to be natural. 

Roy’s face morphed into a crude mixture of embarrassment and apprehension. “Oh, I don’t know if it’s in my place to tell you.”

His gloved hands tightened around the building’s ledge at the cryptic answer. Roy had never _not_ told him anything before. Jason’s eyes flicked to the suspect’s windows, trying to see if there was anything fishy going on before he spoke again. 

“Why not?” 

“Why all of this sudden interest in her, Jaybird?” He looked sideways at Roy, and saw the shit-eating grin of his best friend. Roy knew something that Jason didn’t; that just about killed him. 

“Not fair,” he frowned. “I asked you first.”

“That may be true, but it’s still not my business to tell you. If you want to know, that’s between you and her.”

He knew Roy was right just like he knew he was being clingy and stupid and creepy. The one reasonable voice in the back of his head that kept shouting ‘ _You are disrespecting her privacy, dumbass!_ ’ was one he should listen to, but he found that jealousy had already slapped duct tape over its mouth. Jason groaned at the internal conflict. “That’s why I asked you; I thought you’d at least give me a solid answer.”

“Well, who do you think she’s interested in?”

“This is going to sound stupid. . . .” Jason trailed off and preemptively winced. 

“Jay, you’re not Booster Gold.” The white-lenses of Roy’s mask squinted at him as he grinned. “What’s up?”

“I thought she liked you,” he said in a weak voice, looking away from his friend. He didn’t want to see the anger, disgust, or even potential truth in his best friend’s face. 

Roy burst out laughing. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You guys are always so _close_.” Jason knew that he wasn’t completely _crazy_ when he had suspected something between them; his conclusions were based on albeit semi-biased observations, but observations nonetheless. 

“We’re friends, Jason.”

“You and I are friends, too.” That was his trump card. Jason was sure that he’d be able to get Roy to see his point of view. He didn’t know why it was so important to him; if Roy wasn’t interested in her and she wasn’t interested in him, then why was he _insisting_ on it?

“Do we flip each other off?” Roy asked with a sigh. His gloved fingers crushed against the bridge of his nose in what Jason guessed was frustration. 

“Yes?” Jason didn’t see what that had to do with anything. 

“Do we joke with each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Do we hold each other up when it’s needed?”

“Of course.” That was a no-brainer; they’d always had each other’s backs in the past, and they always would in the future, too. He knew they would. 

That mocking smile stretched across Roy’s face once again. “And are you interested in me, Jaybird?”

Jason barked out a laugh, probably more from his nerves than actual humor. “Not in the slightest.”

“One: you _wish_ you were up to my standards.” Roy grinned, nudging him with his shoulder. Jason just rolled his eyes. “Two: that’s stuff that she and I do, because we’re _friends_.”

“So?”

“Oh my God, Jason, you’re killing me. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Roy yanked off his cap and ran a hand angrily through his bright orange hair. 

“Ha, ha,” he said without any humor. Then, after a minute, “Yes.”

“She’s not interested in me.”

“She’s not interested in you,” Jason repeated. The words tasted sweet on his tongue, though not as sweet as the slick of her heat. He licked his lips when he remembered it. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Uh huh?” Roy asked, tugging the cap back over his long, unruly hair. 

He thought for a moment to the end of the shower—‘ _Why would I let you do that if I had feelings for Roy?_ ’—and grimaced. “Yeah. She uh, she said she didn’t like you when I brought it up with her.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jay. Then why the fuck did you need to hear it from me?” Roy looked at him in disbelief. His own stomach sank at his own disgusting persistence. Fuck, he always knew he was a sick scumbag, but this was a new level of pitiful, even for him. 

“I don’t know, reaffirmation, I guess? It’s been fucking with me for the past few weeks,” he confessed. Understatement of the fucking year. Between spinning it through his head that she liked Roy and vice versa and then the crazy-fucking-good orgasms they’d had, it was kind of driving him insane. 

Roy thought a moment, before offering a wry smile. “Well, you’ve always had a soft spot for her, right?”

There were a million responses he could have said, ranging from ‘ _Whaaaaat? No._ ’ to ‘ _Are you crazy?_ ’ to ‘ _Roy, what are you on this time?_ ’ He wanted to deny it—it was a scary thing to admit out loud, especially since he’d spent fourteen (almost fifteen) months of his life denying his happiness for her own—but couldn’t properly shape his lips to do so. 

In the end, he said in a soft voice, “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Thank Christ!” Roy threw his hands up into the air in mock worship. “It’s about time, Jaybird.”

“What?”

“Do you really think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her? God, the amount of sexual tension in the apartment alone is enough to kill a man. Why do you think I’m always in the workshop?” Roy said with a huff. Was he really that bad? Was he really that _obvious_? Hell, he really was a fucking idiot. Still, Jason felt the need to deny. 

“What- what are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with her. Have been for a while, too.” At least he could always count on Roy to be blunt with him. 

“And?” Jason sputtered. 

“ _And_ , you’re terrible at keeping it a secret.” Roy grinned at him, slapping his back roughly. “Don’t worry about it, Jaybird, we’ve all been there before.”

“Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know it, so I can’t be that bad,” he defended himself, crossing his arms and frowning. 

“Yeah,” Roy grumbled out of nowhere. “It’s because you’ve both got your heads stuck up your asses.”

A little hopeful bell in his head rang. Did that mean-? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He was back to the defensive tone he’d used before, when he said he wouldn’t disclose any of her secrets. Everything he’d ever learned from interrogation techniques raced through his head; he needed to press, he needed to get this out of him. 

“Roy, tell me what you were about to fucking say-”

“Oh, hey, sunshine, how’s it going?” Roy said, grinning over his shoulder. Jason clammed up, watching her walk—he swore it was a saunter with the way her hips swung from side to side—toward them.

He couldn’t see her mouth from behind her mask, but he heard the smile in her voice. “Eh, y’know. Sub-par, the usual. What about you guys? How have things been on your end?”

“Uneventful,” Jason coughed, trying not to think about how good she fucking looked in her skin-tight suit or how close he’d come to being found out. The loud pounding in his throat alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline pulsing through his veins. 

“Same goes for me,” she said with a sigh. Her hands rested on her hips in tight fists, and Jason remembered how the soft skin there had felt beneath his desperate grip. “God, I wish we’d just get some action or something.”

 _You and me both, sweetheart_ , Jason frowned. It was a different kind of action, though, and one that probably shouldn’t be done on the rooftops of Gotham or in front of their mutual friend. 

He thought about bending her over the ledge, his hands tight around her waist, taking her from behind; sure, her lovely moans would echo throughout the city—Jason wanted those for _himself_ , dammit—but that also meant the whole fucking world would know who could make her feel that good. His cock flexed awkwardly against the barrier of his jockstrap. 

Clearing his throat, he leaned back over the ledge. Now was not the goddamn time to get hard. 

“Target’s moving,” Jason said, eyes flicking back over to her. Behind him, he heard Roy snickering, probably on account of their ‘sexual tension’ or whatever. 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” she all-but sighed, and Jason’s cock twitched at the sound. He knew for a fact that her breathy moans sounded the exact fucking same, and that didn’t exactly help his predicament. Jason clenched his jaw, remembering how gorgeous she’d sounded in the shower when he’d eaten her out. Then he pictured her saying the exact same thing the exact same way as he slipped into her heat, and _Christ_ -

“Jaybird, you _coming_ or what?” Roy asked with a wide grin, gesturing at her dark silhouette, already following the target. His eyes flicked down, and Jason knew he was definitely showing a little bit of his previous _excitement_. Then he heard the fucking pun, and he glared at Roy. 

Jason groaned in frustration, readying his grappling hook. “Shut the fuck up.” 

* * *

They’d managed to catch up to her and wrap the baddie up for Gotham P.D. to get, but it had been fucking uncomfortable the entire time. Between seeing her long legs dusted with the city lights and the adrenaline thrumming through his veins, Jason had been unable to temper his (not-so-little) little problem.

Coming home hadn’t fared much better. 

She stripped off her mask and undid the two french braids that had kept her hair from frizzing too much beneath the suit. Jason watched, mesmerized, as she popped off some of the harder Kevlar plates, leaving only the skin-tight body suit to stick to each one of her beautiful curves. She didn’t take off the rest of her ensemble, instead moving to push the coffee table out of the way—Jason tried in vain to avert his eyes from checking out her ass, poked unsuspectingly into the air. 

And when she started stretching soon after? Jason was ashamed to admit he may have drooled. At least he still had his helmet on. Roy elbowed him, before whispering into his ear, “ _Sexual tension_ , Jaybird.”

“Shut it,” he hissed back. He took off his own gear, his hands shaking and his pants feeling significantly tighter than before. Jason grabbed some chips from the pantry to keep his mouth occupied lest he go over and beg to worship her with it. 

She shifted into a split and he nearly choked—his eyes tracing over those beautifully muscled legs, Jason remembered what they felt like wrapped around his waist and coughed. Like she didn’t know the effect she was having on him, she turned and asked, “So what are you guys feeling for dinner tonight?”

 _What about you, love?_ Jason almost said. Instead, he just clenched his jaw and glanced at Roy, who raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk. 

“I can whip up some grilled cheeses if you want, sunshine?” Roy chuckled, still looking pointedly at him. 

‘Sunshine.’ Jason knew that she didn’t like him and that he didn’t like her and that they were just friends, so then why did that harmless nickname make him so fucking pissed still? 

“Ooh,” she said with a wide smile. Christ, she was too gorgeous for her own good. “I like the sound of that. What about you, Jay?”

He bit his lip to get his damn hormones and jealousy under control. “Sounds good to me. Thanks, Roy.” He thought a minute, before continuing. “I’m going to take a shower, actually. I need to cool down after all that running.”

Roy cast him a knowing glance and a wink. He just flipped him off. Jason definitely needed to cool down, but it wasn’t at all from the physical exertion. One more second in that room and he swore he would have lifted her up over his shoulder and carried her to his bed to ravish her. Hell, he really was a fucking neanderthal, wasn’t he?

When he undressed, his cock sprung free from the confines of his pants, underwear, and jockstrap, proudly poking out into the air even though Jason was about ready to castrate himself. He switched the water on, keeping it cold because he knew touching himself right now wouldn’t work. 

He grit his jaw and looked over at the wall where he’d had her pinned a few days before. His cock twitched despite the icy barrage trained on it. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned. Then he remembered how sweet she had tasted and the way her legs clamped around him when she came and how she palmed and sucked his cock so expertly and-

Jason lightly banged his forehead against the tile to get the damn fucking thoughts out of his skull. He tried thinking about anything and everything to calm down, but to no avail. Ten minutes later, when Roy rapped on the door to tell him dinner was ready, he was still half hard. 

He figured he’d just have to bite the bullet (he pictured her with a bullet between her teeth and tracing soft designs over her skin one of his guns, wearing nothing but his damn holsters— _fuck_ his mind) and wear sweatpants, hoping for the best. They’d be watching a movie or sitting at the table, right? He could sit with a blanket over him on the couch, and the table would cover his _problem_ , so there was nothing to worry about, right?

Jason turned out to be psyching himself up for nothing. She wasn’t at the table, and only two grilled cheeses were laid out. 

He cast a questioning glance over to Roy, who was whistling while untying the yellow apron from around his waist. “Where-?”

“She said she wanted to eat dinner in her room. Somethin’ ‘bout calling it an early night?” he replied, not even looking up. Jason sighed, ruffling his hair. He didn't know if he should thank God or damn his own luck; despite being painfully turned on by her at all times, Jason genuinely liked _seeing her_. “Could have been you, y’know, undressing her with your eyes?”

“Fuck, I know, it was shitty of me.”

“Nah, I’m messing with you, Jaybird. I think she had a phone call with Bats,” Roy grinned, sitting down. 

Jason slumped into his chair. While dinner smelled amazing, something between being crazy-aroused the entire day and his ex-caregiver privately talking with the love of his life stifled his appetite. What would Bruce want with her? “Mission?”

“Probably.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t he call all of us, then?” Jason wondered out loud. 

Roy answered with his mouth full of half-chewed food. Yep, Jason officially wasn’t hungry anymore. “I dunno. Maybe he needed someone a little less rough around the edges?” 

“You don’t think he’s giving her a solo mission, do you?” Christ, if Bruce put her in any danger without someone to back her up-

“She can handle herself, y’know.”

Jason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, I do. I just can’t stop worrying, I guess.”

And he couldn’t. In some way, shape, or form, she was always on his fucking mind. Everyday, it was ‘ _Did she sleep well?_ ’ ‘ _Is she up?_ ’ ‘ _Did she eat a good enough breakfast?_ ’ ' _Is she sore from the mission?_ ’ ‘ _Did she hurt herself?_ ’ ‘ _Is she okay?_ ’ ‘ _Is she safe?_ ’ and on and on and on. Jason figured he would stop worrying about her when he stopped loving her; so, never. 

“Listen, Jaybird,” Roy said suddenly, uncharacteristically serious. “When the hell are you gonna tell her?” 

Thank God he hadn’t been eating or he would have choked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“ _Unfortunately_ ,” Jason grumbled. “I don’t know. Preferably never?”

Roy frowned into the second half of his sandwich. “That’s probably not the best idea. You’ve got to let her _know_ , Jay.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Christ,” Roy said, looking unimpressed but not willing to push the matter further. “How are you holding up otherwise?”

“What?” Jason asked, finally feeling balanced enough to eat. The cheese was room temperature and the bread soggy from sitting out for so long. He wrinkled his nose but continued chewing anyway. 

“Well, she met with that guy the other night, right?” Roy reasoned. “You were pretty _tame_ when you saw the marks, but now that some time’s passed, how’re you doing?”

If only Roy knew that it was Jason who gave her those hickeys and Jason who ate her out and Jason whose dick she sucked after that whole ordeal. Stumbling over his words, he said, “Oh, well, it’s kind of shitty. But if he makes her happy, then I’m okay with it.”

Roy squinted at him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He was sweating, he had to be. 

“ _Really?_ ” Roy asked again, this time with more force. 

“I’m fine, honestly,” Jason said with a shrug. 

“Jaybird,” he said slowly. “As someone who’s been glared at by you in the past few weeks for doing mildly _platonic_ things with her, I find it hard to believe that you’re so calm about some other guy _fucking_ her.”

Jason smacked his palm to his forehead. Of course Roy had noticed his jealous stares. “Shit, you saw that?”

“How could I not?”

“I’m sorry, Roy,” he said. And Christ, he meant it. “If it’s any consolation, I was about ready to accept that she had feelings for you and call it quits, but then she-” He clamped his mouth shut. Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_. Fuck, he was such a _dumbass_.

Roy caught his sudden slip-up. “But then she what?”

“Nothing,” Jason said quickly, standing up. “Hey, dinner’s been great, but I’m gonna finish it in my room, so, uh, thanks.”

Jason wasn’t really proud of what he did next, but he shoved the remaining quarter of grilled cheese into his mouth and fucking bolted. 

“Oh no you don’t-!” Roy shouted after him, but Jason was already gone.

He slammed his door shut, then locked it, too, just to be safe. Swallowing hard (mainly because the half-chewed sandwich refused to go down), Jason replayed the conversation in his head. Then he winced, because _fuck_ , he could have said a million other things that were infinitely less suspicious. 

If she found out that he’d almost spilled the beans. . . Jason shuddered just thinking about it (part of him wondered if she’d pin him up against a wall again, and kind of wished she would). 

Then he realized that she’d definitely hate him and might not even talk to him ever again. Shit, he couldn’t let himself slip up anymore. He thought about losing her for good, not just as a lover but as a friend, and his dinner suddenly didn’t want to be in his stomach anymore. 

He ducked into the hallway (not before checking and double-checking that Roy wasn’t outside) to go brush his teeth and mull it over. 

No matter what, he couldn’t lose her. Even if he stayed in her life as someone she could lean on; even if he wasn’t the one who kissed her goodnight and good morning everyday, he wanted to be near her. He had to be fucking careful from now on if he wanted to keep her happy and remain at her side. 

When he got back to his room, he laid in bed with a frown, staring up at the ceiling. 

He wondered how she was. He wondered if she had noticed how he had eyed her and if she had been creeped out by it. He wondered if Bruce was doing this to spite him. He wondered if she’d say yes to the mission. He wondered why he was even hung up on it when he knew she was more than capable of handling herself. He wondered-

A soft knock sounded on his bedroom door, pulling him from his thoughts. Roy wouldn’t knock softly; he’d bang his entire fist on it. That piqued Jason’s interest. Slowly, he crept to the door. 

Christ, when he opened it and she was there, he could have wept with joy. In a tank top and the shortest fucking shorts he’d ever seen, her face glowed red as she shyly looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes. Jason couldn't believe his fucking luck. 

No words were needed—she practically jumped him—he stumbled backwards but gladly accepted her weight—they sank into each other with a deep kiss—she nudged the door shut with her bare foot—he pushed her up against the wall because the bed was too fucking far away for his liking. 

He stole away from her lips for just a moment to take in her ravishing gasps and the way her eyes glittered with want. In an instant he crashed his lips into hers, reveling in their softness. Jason swallowed her gasp and the little mewl that caught in her throat, his hands finding her inner thighs. Pushing them apart, he toyed with the edges of her shorts before dipping his fingers in. 

_No underwear_ —Jason cursed as he felt her slick heat against him. Shit, she came here with a plan and he loved it. 

He stroked along her outer lips with his rough fingertips, sucking up her moans as he neared her clit. She bucked into his hand, and who was he to deny her? With his thumb trapping the sensitive bud beneath it, Jason eased his index finger into her soft, sopping-wet folds. 

The feeling alone pushed his hips forward, grinding into her stomach for some sort of relief; the precious gasp that stole from her lips sent his cock twitching with want. 

He curled his finger, wanting to make her cum at least once before he could plunge his cock into her heat. And as much as he wanted to eat her out and taste the sweetness that had haunted him for the past few days, Jason needed to see her face up close when she came. 

“ _More_ ,” she breathed after a dozen or so pumps of his finger. 

He absolutely adored that she was as desperate for this as he was. At the same time, he remembered how roughly she’d treated him the last time they were together like this, and he decided that a little payback was in order. “More what, love? You’ll have to use your words.”

She pushed into him, eager for more friction; he couldn’t see her lovely eyes because they were closed beneath furrowed brows. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He swirled his thumb around her sensitive bud and she bucked into his hand. 

“ _Fuck_ \- just, please-”

“Please what?”

“ _Jason_ ,” she gasped. She opened those lovely eyes, a hot lust flickering amidst raw defiance. “I need _more_ of you.”

He latched his mouth onto her jaw for a quick kiss, mindful not to suck too hard, before answering just as heatedly. “More on your clit?” He pressed harder on the bud and she mewled. “Or another finger?” When he added a second digit into her warmth, he felt her clench around his fingers and pull him in. She ground down into him with a soft gasp. “Or both, sweetheart?”

Pumping both fingers and swirling his thumb around her clit had her crushing her heat into his hand. Her fingertips clutched his shirt like her life depended on it, digging into his shoulder blades with a pleasant sting. She moaned loudly. 

“Christ,” she panted, still edging into his eager hand. “Both. Definitely _both_.”

“Of course, love.” He hummed into her skin, enjoying how her body squeezed and trembled against him. 

He pumped in broad strokes, slowly bringing her closer and closer to release. Every now and then he’d slow down, just to savor the way in which she protested in fierce threats that dissolved into sweet nothings as soon as he continued. Jason was going to make her cum. _Hard_. 

It started with gasps and mewls that graduated to moans and cries. The walls were thin, and as much as he loved the idea of someone else hearing how _good_ he made her feel, he knew she wanted this to be kept a secret. 

He hushed her first with a tender “ _Love_ ” and “ _Sweetheart_ ” here and there; when that no longer worked and she was riding his hand to get that much closer to cumming, he kissed her. Greedily, like he was starving and the precious sounds trembling from her lips were the first bits of sustenance he’d seen in ages, he sucked up her groans. 

As she came, his fingers were drawn into her, and she hummed a throaty moan into their kiss. Jason loved the vibration of it, loved the way her hips still ground into his hands, begging for more. Christ, he just loved _her_. And when he pulled away, her eyes were wide and dazed. 

He grinned at her, popping the fingers he’d had in her heat into his mouth and savoring the taste. Jason groaned at the sweet tang of it. Now he was the one who needed _more_. 

He pecked the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her chest, her stomach, her hip, her thigh, until he was eye level with her heat. Jason yanked down her shorts, the bottoms practically soaking. A terrible thought to ask her if he could keep those damn shorts flitted through his head, but he shook it away; she’d think he was a creep for wanting to suck every drop of her nectar from them. (Mournfully) he watched as she kicked them off and onto the floor somewhere to his left.

That mourning period didn’t last long, however, because he looked up at her taking off her tank top, the insides of her thighs slick with her wetness. Reverence quickly took over. 

He licked a stripe over her warm heat, and her sweetness once again bloomed onto his tongue. Her hands moved to his jaw and chin, before she tilted his face up. Fuck, he’d forgotten how gorgeous she looked from this angle: breasts forming soft hills, her beautiful face looking down from their valley, eyes hooded with mischief and mouth curved into a grin. 

“As much as I would _love_ for you to eat me out, Jason,” she gasped, and his cock ached at the shamelessness with which she spoke it. “Right now, _I need you_.”

For a second he was utterly dumbfounded—how could he not be, when she sounded so sweet and sexy at the same time? It made him buck his hips into the air, hard. When her words fully registered, however, Jason ripped off his tee like it was fucking on fire. Same with his sweatpants and boxers. 

He turned to her—saw her wild hair and flashing eyes and satisfied grin—and was up against her in an instant. Bare skin against bare skin, with not even a thin veneer of water droplets to separate them this time; Jason had never felt anything so lovely before. She was so soft, so warm, and the way she ran her hungry hands over his body drove him wild. 

“I’m going to lift you up, okay, love?” he asked softly, his lips brushing over her flushed cheek. 

Her eyelashes fluttered against the tip of his nose, and his heart melted. “Okay, Jason.”

His hands found her firm ass and lifted her up. When her legs crossed around his waist, Jason realized he’d never fit so perfectly in the universe before. He braced her back up against the wall, her sweet wetness tracing lovingly over his sensitive skin. Christ, they were finally going to-

She ground into him, the tip of his cock prodding at her velvety opening. He moaned loudly at her eagerness. Despite this, his hands clamped tightly around her waist to stop her from taking him in. Cursing beneath his breath because he should have gotten it before they were so comfortable against one another, he said, “We need a condom before we start, sweetheart.” 

“I’m on the pill,” she said, and then chuckled airily at his starstruck expression. 

“So I can. . . ?” he trailed off, not wanting to ruin the moment but still needing to know. 

She laughed again, grinding against him. His cock grew slick from her soaked heat. “Cum inside me? Yeah.”

 _Thank God_ , Jason almost groaned out loud. The sound still rumbled in his throat, but at least the words hadn’t been articulated and she hadn’t heard how desperate he really was for her. “You ready, love?”

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Jason thought she’d never looked prettier, with her hair tangled in his hands, her lips swollen from his kisses, her cheeks ruddied from excitement. The slight upturn of her mouth and the coy look twinkling in her eyes made his hands shake as he lined himself up with her opening. He clenched his jaw as his head entered into her tight heat; Jesus Christ, if he died tonight in her arms, he’d die a fucking happy man. 

He sank into her slowly with a long moan. Fuck, she was so wet there was hardly any friction. Jason was already drowning in her dripping heat, her slick walls welcoming him in further and further into their intimacy. She arched against him, her hands gripping his shoulders with all the strength he knew she had. 

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Jason murmured lightly into her ear. His voice was thick with bliss and he didn’t even want to hide it from her. “Am I okay to move?” 

Her legs tightened around him. One of her arms hooked around his neck, her other hand traced up his jaw; she pulled him in, heatedly eyeing his mouth before whispering a heavenly “Yes,” then a sinful “Kiss me.” 

Jason pressed his lips to hers and started moving out. Halfway through, though, he moaned loudly into her—fuck, her heat protested his leave by tugging him in. Her walls clung to him tightly, the slight wave of her clenching making his cock ache. He’d never felt this kind of torturous pleasure, never felt the sweet ache of wanting to be buried deep within her for the rest of time. Still, he continued to leisurely retract, savoring every protesting tug of her warmth. 

It was only when just the tip of his cock remained stuck in her lovely warmth that he snapped his hips up. A gasp tore from her mouth, which Jason took advantage of by deepening their kiss. 

Her hands curled into his hair, tugging slightly. He bit her lip, loving the plumpness of it between his teeth; then he broke the kiss and pecked her cheek (hopefully she wouldn’t remember his utter lack of emotional restraint) before mouthing harshly down to her shoulder. Her sweat tasted heavenly. Jason wanted to lick and suck and kiss every drop of it up for himself. All the while he pumped in and out of her, fucking her softly enough to be making sweet love instead. Jason kissed her harder to disguise his intentions; this was just sex, this was _just_ sex. No feelings, she didn’t want any feelings in this. 

“No marks,” she managed to say when he lingered at a spot on her throat. The way her chest heaved, practically pulsing against his, as well as the sheer breathlessness of her voice, told him that merely speaking was a feat for her at the moment. He grinned against her skin. 

“What about lower?” 

She laughed, clenching around his newest thrust. Jason hummed into her skin. “Will you be able to fuck me and leave marks lower?”

“What about-” he plunged into her once more, appreciating how her eyes fluttered shut, “-your breasts? They look rather neglected, wouldn’t you say?”

“Are you usually this mouthy when you fuck, Jason?” 

He probably could have cum to the way she said his name like that: softly, delicately, enunciating each sound like it was something important. Then the full weight of her words hit him and he smiled—she was so sassy even when she was rutting against him in the desperate need to get herself off. He fucking adored her. 

Pressing a chaste kiss to her collarbone despite wanting desperately to suck on the spot until it was violet, he said, “Technically, I’m not being very mouthy right now. That’s actually the subject of the conversation at hand, love.”

Her legs clenched around him, and he felt her heat ripple around his cock. What he wouldn’t give to feel her like that around him everyday for the rest of his life. Christ, this is where he belonged—buried deep within her, cherishing every inch of her skin with his mouth, holding her warm body, listening to the soft and sweet sounds fluttering from her mouth. 

“Smartass-” she bit out before moaning. The pad of his thumb found its way to her clit, effectively silencing her curses. Another tremble of delightful tightening pulled his cock further into her. He remembered that he’d be able to cum inside of her—he nearly did at the mere thought of it—and pushed harder into her. 

“So what do you say?” he huffed, running through various Shakespeare quotes he’d memorized in his head to distract himself from cresting bliss too soon. 

“What?” That was a loud whine and he loved it. 

“Quiet, love,” he reminded her, bracing open-mouthed against her soft left breast. “Can I mark down here, yes or no?”

Jason scraped his teeth lovingly against the skin as if to bias her. It worked as she sighed and met his latest thrust. “ _Fuck_ \- God, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he practically prayed into her breast. 

He licked and sucked the skin there, taking it sharply between his teeth at times and then soothing it with soft caresses from his chapped lips. Beneath his mouth, he could feel the wild thrum of her pulse blooming onto his tongue. That was it: he needed to see her come undone again, _now_. 

The pace he set was rigorous. Despite hushing her loud, wanton sounds earlier, he wanted her calling out his name to the fucking heavens. The thought of her as a blushing, stuttering mess with only his name on the tip of her sweet tongue, loud enough that the neighbors—even that cheeky-bastard-of-a-high-school-student who lived across the street and ogled at her ass whenever she wore shorts around the apartment—could hear it, made his cock throb. 

His thrusts grew sloppier as he reached his own release, but he felt her tightening around him. He looked up at her and thanked some unknown god for the red on her cheeks and the soft ‘o’ her pink mouth made and the way her eyes were closed with her eyebrows drawn up sweetly. Just to get her there faster, he lightly pinched her clit; she squeezed around him, her body jerking his closer to hers at the sensation. 

Jason was utterly bewitched when she came—her nails bit into his scalp pleasantly, pushing his hungry mouth against her breast (not that he minded)—her muscled thighs clamped hard around his hips, drawing him as far into her as physically possible—his name was feather-light on her lips instead of a shout, but the intimacy of how she murmured the word somehow gilded it—she curved into his body, melding into him like they were perfectly-fitted for each other—her heat trembled and pulled at his cock as if coaxing it to release along with her. 

He lasted four more strong pumps before cumming, hard. His teeth bit into her harshly because holy hell, this was infinitely better than his own fucking hand. The first thought running through his head was that he’d have to apologize for being so rough with his mouth; then he heard her hissing a short “ _Yes!_ ” and throwing her head back at the feeling and rippling around his cock, and he suddenly didn’t feel so bad about it. 

Jason felt her pulling around him, milking every last drop of cum out of his spent cock. Christ, the thought alone made him half hard again. 

With one last soft thrust into her as if to permanently etch the feeling of her heat quivering around him, Jason pulled out. Carefully, he brought her down from around his waist, making sure her legs were steady before he let go. The instant he did, he missed the weight of her body and the warmth of her skin. 

“ _Wow_.” It was a short and innocent breath with just the barest pronunciation to be distinguished as a word. Her eyes were still wide and her chest heaved up and down—fuck, already he wanted to kiss her soft skin there until it was darkly patterned with his love. 

“Wow?” he gulped, out of breath as well. He hoped (more like prayed) that it was a good ‘ _wow_ ’ and not a you-could-have-done-a-whole-lot-better ‘ _wow_.’ 

She laughed a puffing sort of sound. Her cheeks were still flushed and Jason absolutely relished in the purple spot right above her heart. “That was- holy _fuck_ , that was-”

“Good?” he tried. His hands tugged at his hair, damp from sweat and exertion, to keep from taking her soft, firm body back into his embrace. He knew if he did, he’d hold onto her and never fucking let go again, consequences be damned. 

“Yeah,” she nodded with a grin. His heart nearly fucking stopped at the sight of her—hair a mess, skin red, smiling lips bruised to kingdom come, eyes flashing with an intoxicating mixture of humor and lust. What had he done to deserve this slice of heaven? “ _Really good_. We should have done this sooner.”

Jason chuckled, more from irony than anything else. If only she knew how many times he’d contemplated pinning her up against the kitchen countertop or bending her over the couch or fucking taking her in that black suit of hers on some rooftop in the past twenty four hours alone. That wasn’t even counting the months of fantasies he’d had prior to this little arrangement of theirs. 

“No kidding,” he managed to say.

“Round two?” she asked sweetly, still panting. 

His cock twitched up at the mere idea. Hell, she was going to kill him, and he didn’t even fucking care all that much. Jason smiled, arms bracing beneath her knees and her back before picking her up. She chuckled, which he returned with a lopsided grin of his own. Tossing her on the bed, he murmured, “Anything for you, love.”

And by God, did he mean it. 


	5. Early Mornings and Other Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everyone collectively for all of your amazing comments, because wow, every single time I get the notification that someone left one, I smile so heckin' wide. The support is greatly appreciated and I absolutely adore each of you lovelies out there!
> 
> I would also like to preface that the chapter after this is a little heftier than the ones I've previously written. Based on the scattered scenes that I've got so far, I'm low-balling it at about 10,000 words, though I wouldn't be surprised if it went over that. It isn't the end (though we are pretty close), it's just a mad lad of soft and sexy continued miscommunication as each party gets closer to the truth. With all that in mind, that chapter will take a bit longer to complete, so I'd like to apologize in advance for that. 
> 
> In regards to this new chapter, wooooh baby, things are getting a little intense... good thing there's always the calm before the storm... well, kind of ;) There's a lot more fluff in this bad boy, a little risque action here and there, and you better believe that there's more miscommunication. I hope you folks enjoy!

Her alarm clock blared, waking her from a peaceful sleep that she probably could have continued for another ten hours had it not been interrupted. 

Sleepily, she moved to turn it off, but strong hands around her hips, fitting perfectly within the contours of her pelvis, stopped her. _Jason_. Right, they had fooled around again last night—they’d had sex at least once a day pretty consistently for the last five, and she had to say, despite the utter emotional turmoil it was putting her through, she enjoyed every second of it. 

Recently, as in the past two nights, whenever she called him into her room, Jason stayed, and they woke up tangled in each other’s embrace. She couldn’t say she minded, just because he was so warm and so cute when he slept. And, well, he was handsy too, and she _thoroughly_ enjoyed feeling his arms wrap around her waist or his hands grip her ass or one of his legs shift in between hers. It was adorable how clingy he was, though a part of her chest ached knowing that he held on so tightly because of his past scars. 

While Jason never really shied away from verbal forms of affection or affirmation (at least when they were just friends and there were no _benefits_ involved), he wasn’t ever comfortable with overly-enthusiastic physical displays of love. This new, softer side of him was too precious and endearing; a not-so-small selfish part of her hoped that she was one of the few people close enough to see it. 

If only she could wake up like that for the rest of her life: in his warm and safe arms, his heartbeat just barely tangible against her mid-back, melded completely into her body. It was probably the closest she’d ever get to heaven. And after a night of love-making, er, _sex_ , it was infinitely better. 

They felt natural together, like their bodies were made to hold each other, though she tried not to read too much into it. 

Her current predicament, however, was because Jason’s grip was _strong_ and she couldn’t turn off the damn alarm because of it. How he hadn’t woken up was beyond her. 

His muscled body wrapped around hers from behind, hands never faltering from their perch on either side of her hips. His hard-on (was this boy always fucking horny or what?) pressed into her ass deliciously, and a voice in her head begged her to skip the interview just to have more fun with him. Best of all, his lips were pressed against the nape of her neck, so she felt every lovely breath of his blooming onto her skin. 

Too bad she’d have to ruin this lovely scene with her responsibilities. “Jason,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. 

He moaned deeply, holding her tighter. His eyelashes fluttered against her skin. “Five more minutes, please.”

“Jay,” she laughed, moving her arm to ruffle his hair. He needily leaned into her touch, warm beneath her fingers. “At least let me go so I can turn this damn thing off.”

“You could never turn me off, sweetheart,” he murmured into her shoulder, still half asleep. 

Oh, she was well aware of that fact. She arched an eyebrow and moved her hips, brushing his hard-on with her ass. He moaned again, pressing a chaste kiss into the back of her shoulder. “You’re such a horndog.”

“Only for you, love.” She stopped moving. What? _What?!_ What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t have time to act on that particularly interesting slip-up of his, because he started moving. Shifting behind her, he lifted one of his arms—she sorely missed its warm presence—and reached over her head. Then, in all of his dazed glory, Jason swatted the entire alarm clock off the table, effectively silencing it (and breaking it, too). “Much fuckin’ better.”

“You owe me a new one,” she said with a laugh, leaning back against him. 

His hand moved back to her hip, skimming up until it firmly held her exposed breast. The warmth of his palm pleasantly shocked her. Jason then wrapped one of his legs over her own beneath the covers as if to hold her in. Despite her previous protests, she nestled further into him. Lips brushing against the side of her neck, he said, “Worth it.”

She shivered, shifting her hips just to feel him groan against her skin again. “You also know you have to let me go, right?”

“It’s- What time is it?”

“Well, it _was_ 7:06 before you knocked the clock over.” 

“Why the hell would you wake up three and a half hours before the interview?” Jason grumbled. Moving his arms, he circled her waist tightly. 

“Jason,” she said. This was a slippery slope for her. As much as she loved being this close to him, skin on skin and absolutely precious, she still had things she needed to do. “You know I like to be prepared, especially after what happened last time. Plus, the subway ride into downtown is about forty-five minutes.”

He cursed into her shoulder, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t the least bit turned on by its subtle rasp. “What if I call B again?”

“ _Jason._ ” 

“What?” He grinned into her skin. “B wouldn’t mind; he owes me tons of favors by now. Then, when they call, you book an afternoon meeting next time, and we can spend the day in bed?”

She laughed. Turning her head to look at his beautiful face, she said, “You’ve got this all figured out, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Still not happening,” she almost sang. 

“Nooo _ooo_ ,” he groaned into her but loosened his grip anyway. 

As she shifted to move (regrettably) away, Jason’s arms and hands, dead weight, trailed over her body like he was trying to entice her to stay. She snorted at his childishness, perching herself on the edge of the bed to put her hair up. “About time, Jay.”

“Mm, wait, sweetheart,” Jason said. One of his strong arms hooked around her waist, pulling her closer. She felt the warm shock of his lips press onto her lower back and relaxed into them. He stopped all too soon. “There, much better.”

“Did you really leave another hickey?” She laughed, not really minding it because morning Jason was too goddamn adorable for his own good. 

His voice was husky when he responded. “No. But do you want me to?”

“Hmm,” she smiled, her stomach dropping pleasantly at the gravelly tone. “Maybe later.”

“For real?” Jason asked, perking up. _Of course_ the prospect of lovebites was what really woke him up. “Where?”

“Not now, be patient.” Still naked and in front of him, she stretched her arms up, running through her mental checklist: pick out an outfit, eat breakfast, get dressed, get ready, double-check that she had everything that she needed, leave. 

Jason, however, was not patient. “Where, love?” 

She had to be mindful of the mission Bruce had assigned to her for the coming Saturday: being extra eyes at some gala he was invited to. Cursing, she thought back to the pictures of her dress that Stephanie showed her. Not her back, like, _at all_ —her dress was completely backless. Arms were also a no, shoulders and the top part of her chest as well. With the slit on the right side, she also couldn’t risk much on her thighs. 

“Anywhere from about here-” she gestured to a spot just above her nipples, then to mid-hip, “-to here.” 

“You want the whole thing to be marked? Because I can do that, just for you, love,” Jason all-but begged. He looked absurdly boyish, with his hair ruffled and his eyes bright and a lopsided smile crossing his face; she loved it. She loved _him_. 

Still, she rolled her eyes, despite the forbidden three words humming in the back of her throat. Making her way over to the closet, she said, “Very funny, Jason. I’m talking about _one_ , maybe _two_ , if you behave during the next couple of days.”

“What else will I get?” Jason asked. _Cheeky bastard_. Give him an inch and he’d take a mile. Somehow, she didn’t mind all that much; his eagerness matched her own.

“After this weekend,” she paused, thinking. What on Earth could he want? “You can. . . hmmm.”

“What’s a ‘hmmm,’ love?” he asked innocently, though Jason was hardly ever _innocent_. Especially not with his lips- _Nope, don’t go there or you’ll never leave_ , she chastised herself. 

She cast a disapproving glance over her shoulder before resuming thumbing through her wardrobe. “Very funny. But really, what else do you want?”

“Two more things,” he said with a grin. _Two?_ She was caught between complete exasperation and utter acceptance; as much as she’d give him hell for his demands, he still deserved the sun. “One: I want to spend at least a full day in bed with you.”

“Like, just sex?” 

She loved Jason, but an entire day of sex, when he was a beast in bed (she’d found several bite marks and hickeys around her hips and heat since they’d started this little arrangement, so ‘beast’ was an accurate statement) would undoubtedly take its toll on her. If they were needed for an assignment and she was sore (as much as she would love every second of it), that wouldn’t be good for the team. 

“Sex, talking, cuddling, just _hanging out_. I lo- really enjoy spending time with you,” he said, almost breathlessly. Her heart softened as blind hope and love filled it up. “We’ll probably need to snag some food beforehand, because walking out into the kitchen, naked, with Roy around probably isn’t the best idea-”

“Or we could just put on clothes before going out?” she said. 

He chuckled. “Nope. I want you and I to be naked all day.” 

She swallowed, _hard_ , thanking God that she was turned away from him. The prospect of being undressed and in Jason’s arms for an entire twenty-four hours made her mouth water and her heart flutter. 

“Dork,” she managed to say. 

“Mhmm. Request Number Two is that I want to pick you up after your interview today.”

She stopped going through her clothes. That was certainly a weird request. She expected him to say ‘ _A blowjob_ ,’ or ‘ _A hand job_ ,’ or something else of equally promiscuous nature. While she was certainly flattered (and hopeful, given what he had said in his earlier sleep-haze) she refused to read into it. Jason was probably just watching out for her like any good friend would. 

He caught on to her hesitation. With a voice so soft and thoughtful, he said, “Hey, if you don’t want that, or either of them for that matter, I can think of something else.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t mind it all, Jay,” she rushed out. Her hands shook as they grabbed a random hanger, more to steady herself than anything. “I just- You just caught me by surprise.”

“Are you sure?” Christ, he was always so considerate. She loved loved _loved_ that about him. 

Turning, she flashed him a smile. “Of course.”

A shy smile spread over his lips and knocked the air from her lungs. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem.”

Jason stretched, the blanket over his lower body trailing dangerously low on his hips. She grit her teeth and tried not to linger on his abs or the V-shape pointing down or the single dark wisp of his happy trail peeking out from the covers. 

“What time do you expect to get out?” Jason asked after a loud yawn. He didn’t seem to notice her ogling his body (thank God). 

“That’s a good question,” she said, more to herself than to him. Then, louder, she continued, “Probably no later than 11:30.”

“Sweet.” 

She felt his piercing eyes on her as she moved over to her dresser, picking out the necessary underwear; just to tease, she pulled out a black lace thong and a matching bralette. Resting up on his forearms (maybe to get a better view of her?), he coughed—when she turned to shoot a smirk in his direction, the covers were tented ever so slightly by his hips. “Everything all good over there, Jay?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bowed. “I’m just great.”

Fuck, she wanted to kiss him. _Badly_. She was so turned on by this vaguely domestic scene between them that she almost didn’t care about potentially getting carried away and missing her meeting. _Almost_. She glanced over to where her alarm clock would have been had Jason not sent it to an early grave. It couldn’t be later than 7:15, so she could probably spare fifteen minutes of riling him up before going to eat breakfast. 

Slowly, she bent down and stepped into the lingerie; on its journey up, she made sure to take her time, relishing in both the fabric drawing goosebumps up her skin and Jason’s heated stare. There was a dilemma when she finally pulled them all the way up: should she also put the bralette before teasing him, or should she continue on bare-chested?

Her eyes flicked over to him for any indication. With the way his eyes latched onto her body, she figured he was more of an all-natural guy. Less work for her, and more time to play with him a little. She tossed it to the side. 

“Hey, Jay?” she asked sweetly, stepping closer. 

He swallowed again, and she decided she was going to start with his damn throat. “Yes, love?”

“Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with an eager nod. 

Taking her time with each step, she noticed how Jason’s eyes followed each sideways movement of her hips. Internally, she grinned—he really was too easy to read when he was turned on. 

With a slow swing of her leg over his blanketed lower torso, she soon rested her clothed heat on top of his hard cock. Even with the comforter and her underwear between them, he felt amazing against her, providing the right amount of hot pressure where she needed him most. She ground her core into him and adored the groan that ripped through his throat. Her hands grazed over his chest before hooking around his muscled neck—fuck, his chest moved up and down, and she knew he was _excited_. 

Then, she dragged her lips over his skin, making sure to lean into his hard chest. That way, his hands would be occupied with keeping them upright, and she could really rile him up knowing he wouldn't be able to touch her back. 

Delicately, her mouth brushed over the thick scars sliced across his pectorals. Jason sucked in a desperate breath and didn’t let it back out as she moved her ass in little semi-circles against his cock. Trailing soft, sweet kisses back up until she felt his morning stubble tickle her lips. She twisted her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

As she pulled away, she eyed his lips like she wanted to kiss him—she did, desperately, but she wanted to tease him more. Jason stared at her with dazed and hooded eyes, his mouth parted slightly to readily receive hers. Smiling, she dipped her head in until her lips just brushed over his. His beautiful eyes closed for just a moment, and then opened as she started to pull away. Whether he meant to or not, his head moved forward to follow her, seeking her mouth after being promised it. 

“Love,” he murmured, and she swore she stopped breathing. “Kiss me?”

Fuck, she wanted to. Especially when he asked her so softly. 

She grinned, then tugged his head back by his hair instead. Jason hissed, though the sharp sound dissolved into a low groan as her open mouth latched onto his neck. Roughly, she pressed into him, breaking her assault on his skin only to moan as his cock rubbed over her clothed clit. She knew she’d have to change her underwear because she was _drenched_ at the moment. Part of her chastised herself for wasting a perfectly good pair of panties (it cost a shit-ton to go to the laundromat down the street); the other part of her said it was well worth it to see Jason so compromised. 

She pressed her mouth over his throat when she got her bearings again, continuing to rut against his hard length as her own peak grew closer and closer. 

“ _Jason_ ,” she hissed into his skin when he started thrusting up into her, hitting all of the right places. Getting herself off wasn’t exactly in her master plan, but if he insisted, she didn’t mind getting a little extra out of the experience. 

Jason’s hands shifted from supporting them up to desperately grasping at her hips. They fell back into the sheets—she let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness that quickly dissolved into a low moan.

He murmured her name like a reverent prayer, his hands rough but gentle as he aided her efforts. He was still so ridiculously sweet, even when she doubted he was getting as much out of this experience as she was. Then he cursed—a low grunt that wisped away into nothing at the end—and she guessed that he actually _was_ enjoying it as much as she was. She moved faster, their breathing rushing out in uneven puffs. 

Hell, she was close. Her mouth latched onto the junction where his neck and shoulder met to suck on the skin there, salty from sweat and arousal and sweetened from sleep. The hot coil in her belly felt ready to burst— _just a little bit more, just a little bit more_ -

“Fuck, _Jay_ ,” she breathed against his skin. His fingers tightened a fraction when she said his name. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he said in the gentlest voice she’d ever heard. And how could she not?

With his large hands pressing her down and his muscular hips flexing up into her, she was pushed to a sweet release with the blissful grin spread over his face. She bit into his shoulder—he moaned along with her as she came, _hard_.

It rolled over her sweetly at first, like the soft kisses of a tentative wave; orgasm fluttered through her belly, and as Jason continued thrusting against her heat, that gentle ripple tugged her beneath its pleasurable surface. She was set afloat in the warm shock jolting within her body as she drowned in the taste of his skin and the feeling of his hands and the sound of his breathing. His name trickled from her lips, and she had never felt so alive before. 

Coming down from her high, she swore Jason had stars in his eyes as he watched her. It was like he was amazed, in awe, and she didn’t know why, considering she’d only made herself cum, not him. 

His warm hands felt amazing on her bare waist, but she (regretfully) decided they’d have to go if she was to implement her next plan of attack. With soft touches of her fingertips, she attempted to wrestle his grip from her body. Key word being ‘attempted,’ of course. 

“Sweetheart-” he started to protest. 

She hushed him with a smile. “Trust me?” 

“ _Always_.” 

Christ, she just wanted to yell ‘ _Take me!_ ’ and skip her meeting. Jason was just too damn lovely for his own good. His hands fisted themselves into the sheets instead of clasping around her body.

She shifted her hips up so she no longer pressed against his cock, instead kneeling over his thighs. Her teeth dragged down his chest, mindful of his scars; every now and then, she paused on a certain patch of his skin, nipping at its salty warmth lightly before soothing it with soft strokes of her tongue and the slight padding of her lips. She moved down his body, circling his navel with a little ring of pecks before skimming her mouth down the right side of his V-line plunging below the sheets. 

Pausing briefly, she looked up at his gorgeous face. His head dug back into the mattress, exposing his sculpted throat—if she wasn’t currently occupied, she would have kissed there to kingdom come. Her eyes darted over his slightly opened mouth, and hell, yet another place she would have ravished if she hadn’t been so busy or so far away. 

“Love,” he rumbled out at her absence of touch. Her heart (and heat) clenched at the tone alone. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” she asked with a grin. One of his large hands wound itself in her hair; the other cupped her cheek. She palmed his erection just to get a rise out of him, no pun intended. 

“Fuck- please, I just- _I need you_.” 

Even though it was just in the context of sexual favors and even though she knew he didn’t mean it the way she wanted him to, her heart still fluttered in her chest. It was fucking unfair how easily he could just disarm her like that. 

Achingly slow, out of spite because he had no right to make her fall in love with him that much more, she dragged down the sheets covering his pelvis and legs. Jason’s cock got caught along the way, and as soon as her tentative fingers grazed it to let it loose, he bucked against her. She prided herself in her ability to make him so desperate and worked up for it. 

Jason now watched her intently, eyes following every torturous movement she made. She shot a coy look up to him and brushed her lips lightly over the base of his cock. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” he gulped. She licked a wet strip down his shaft with the tip of her tongue. Immediately, Jason reacted, both hands tangling in her hair as he moaned. While her left hand moved comfortingly up and down his thigh, her right hand traced looping patterns over the skin of his balls. Then, when her lips reached the tip of his cock and she tasted the bitterness of his precum, she took him all the way in. “ _Holy fuck_ -”

As his hips flexed up into her mouth, his head dug further down into the bed. His lips were wide open and allowed for all of the loud, guttural groans to escape. _The whole damn apartment building’s going to sound like a haunted house_ , she thought as the head of his cock nearly choked her throat; if they had been alone, she would have reveled in the sounds, but alas, they had neighbors and a roommate to worry about. 

He couldn’t continue being so loud without their little rendezvous being discovered. She’d have to fix that.

Pulling him out, she chastised, “Jason.”

“Ye- yes, love?” he asked weakly. She loved the red blush that ran rampant over his neck and face and ears; a small part of her wanted to compare it to his helmet to see if they matched. 

“You’ll need to keep quiet.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d love to do that,” he said, one of his thumbs tracing the shell of her ear. She shivered at the intimate feeling. “I don’t think you understand how good you are with your mouth. Hell, or your hands.”

She blushed at the compliment. There went being in control and sexy and everything else she was supposed to be. Fuck, she needed to get control again. Thank God for the truly devilish idea that popped into her head a moment later. 

Stepping off of the bed, she said, “Have it your way.”

Jason leaned back up on his forearms. “Sweetheart-”

He stopped when he saw her taking off her soaked panties. Stepping out of them primly, she hooked her index finger in one of the holes. “Would you like to bite on these while I continue?” 

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” he moaned, eyeing the black lace like it was made of pure gold. When she tossed them to him, he snatched them up greedily, bringing them to his nose. She never thought Jason breathing in the scent of her cum from her panties would be something that turned her on, yet there she was, aching at the sight of him. He grit his jaw tightly, balling them up and biting down on them. 

“Better?” she asked with a smirk.

Jason could only nod. The lovely blue of his irises was hidden from the world as his eyes closed, though she found solace in the lace peeking out from his reddened lips. It wasn’t fucking fair that he could still look so goddamn alluring when she was the one who was supposed to be seducing him at the moment. 

She took him all the way back into her mouth just to see that gorgeous face of his twist and scrunch with pleasure. Jason groaned, his hands fisting back into her hair and pushing her down. And, while he was definitely quieter than before, Jason was still loud. She’d tease him about it later; for now, she wanted to bring him as physically close to release as possible. 

Once again, her hands lightly massaged his balls, occasionally running her fingers over the velvety skin in spidery designs. Jason arched into her, his nails digging into her skin. It stung and caused her to hiss around his length. Somehow, she didn’t mind the pain all that much, and instead sucked harder on his shaft. 

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” he said (at least that’s what she thought he said). Each consonant was muffled by her panties, so it sounded more like ‘ _Oh-eey uht_.’ 

She hummed slightly—he seemed to like that and thrusted deeper into her. With his breathing bated, his skin red and warm, his cock pressed into the back of her throat, she thought he’d never looked so attractive. Swirling her tongue under the bottom of his shaft, she pushed him further down—Christ, he was so big and so long she had to really focus on breathing or else she’d gag. 

He grunted, plunging into her mouth. When she looked up at him from between his muscled legs, she saw how his lovely jaw, pulled into a taut angle, flexed into the air. He was close, with his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth pressed harshly against the lace of her underwear and his body tense, and she couldn’t wait to wind him up. 

Lightly, she shifted back so that her lips wrapped only around the bitter head of his cock. Her tongue traced over its leaking slit, and she moaned at his taste. She gave it one final suck, during which Jason stiffened and moaned substantially. She was confident he needed maybe one more good pump before he came. Pulling away from the head of his cock, she smirked and said, “Oh, would you look at the time? I better start getting ready again.”

She pulled away in an instant, practically dancing back over to her dresser. Jason, dazed and close and on edge all at the same time, was too occupied with the sudden loss of contact to grab her. When it fully registered, he buried his face in his hands. 

He groaned after reluctantly taking the panties from his mouth. “You’re such a tease.” 

“Like you aren’t?”

She knew that Jason couldn’t really argue with that; just the previous night, when he had been eating her out, he stopped right before she could have cum just to hear her whine and beg. “Please, can you finish me, sweetheart?”

“What if I want to see you finish yourself?” she asked. Fuck, the idea of him pulling on his own cock while she watched made her stomach clench up again. Lust pounded all the way from her throat to her core. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed. His hands clenched around her damp panties until his knuckles turned white. “I never knew you had such a dirty mind, love.”

“You can either finish yourself off or stay worked up, Jay.” It sounded like she was singing, and she guessed it was because she loved riling him up so much. She went back through her undergarments, determined this time not to get distracted. Still, she greatly enjoyed the scalding look Jason sent her way when she pulled out a pair of dark red, lacy underwear. 

“Love, _please_.”

She hummed. “This is payback for last night.”

“So cruel,” he whined. Instead of defending himself further, he resigned and sighed, rolling onto his stomach to hide his neglected arousal. She guessed he wasn’t into the whole watching-while-masturbating thing. What a shame. At least she could still admire his ass from that position. 

“I don’t like being made to beg every time I have to cum, Jason,” she said, stepping into the new pair of underwear. 

“Not even when you sound so pretty when you do?” Jason asked, looking the picture of cheeky innocence. She chuckled, mainly because it took him no time at all to recover from being pushed to the edge and denied (and maybe because she liked it when he called her pretty). 

She bit her lip, trying desperately to restrain herself from jumping him again. “Jason, I mean it.”

“Okay! Okay,” he laughed, his eyes on her ass as she walked back over to the closet. “I’ll stop making you beg _every_ time. Every now and again, though. . . .”

Jason trailed off, grinning that childlike grin of his that made her heart stumble and fall. She coughed and turned away from him. “Just so long as you understand the consequences of your actions, Jay.”

“I’d hardly consider watching you get yourself off on me a consequence, sweetheart.”

She didn’t know if it was possible to love and hate a single person so much. It just wasn’t _fair_ how easily he could tease her and turn her on so much and make her fall for him even more. 

“I guess I’ll have to think of more _consequences_ , then,” she shot back despite the obvious thickness of her voice. 

“Kinky.”

“Oh my God,” she said, burying her face in her hands. 

"I'll stop teasing, _for now_ ," Jason said with a bark of laughter. The swishing of fabric behind her alerted her to the fact that Jason was moving. “By the way, I can wash your sheets today while you’re gone, if you want?”

“What, so we can soil them again later tonight?” It was her turn to laugh as she finally found the dress shirt she’d been hunting for. Doing laundry? With the frequency that they’d been having sex, she doubted they’d stay clean for long. 

“There’s another one of our appointments tonight, too?” Jason raised his dark eyebrows and grinned despite his obvious aching need. 

“If you want there to be, and if you’re still free?” _Please say yes please say yes please say yes_ -

“Of course,” he chuckled. _Praise God_. Resting his chin on his (delicious) bicep, he watched her pull out the clothes options she’d gone through last week. 

“Sounds good to me,” she said, trying not to appear too giddy. Holding up the two outfit choices, she asked, “Which one?”

“Sweetheart, are you really thinking of wearing a skirt in this weather? You’ll freeze,” Jason frowned. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you wear the other one,” Jason said, lowering his voice so it just barely scratched out of his throat. “You’ll look like a sexy lawyer ready to take down some business tycoon.”

She barked out a laugh. “You’re into that?”

“I’m just saying, you’ll look sexy either way, though I’d rather you be warm.” Why was he so goddamn considerate? God, her heart fucking melted; he was too pure for his own good. 

“Well, too bad I’m not going for sexy, Jason,” she said, trying to hide the pure adoration she felt for him, instead turning back to her closet. If he couldn’t see her blushing cheeks and if he couldn’t see the way she smiled, then he wouldn’t know she was in love with him, right?

“Well,” he mocked her tone of voice. “Too bad you’ll look sexy in whatever you wear, love.”

“Jason, I’m going for professional,” she said, scoffing at his utter dorkiness (and horniness). 

“Professional badass?”

She cast a pointed frown at him from over her shoulder. “Professional, as in ‘courteous’ and ‘reliable.’” 

Jason hummed, nodding sagely. “Sexy.”

“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“Can you blame me sweetheart?” he asked, turning back over so she could see his dripping and still-swollen cock. Christ, she wanted to mount him right then and there and ride him until he was completely spent inside of her. “Not only have I not found release after your stunning efforts earlier, but you’re also fucking gorgeous. _Of course_ I’m incorrigible around you.”

She cursed in her head. This was so unfair; he couldn’t just say things like that and not expect her to love him. He wouldn’t ever love her the way she loved him, and yet he could say something as lovely and sexy as that so casually—every single time he did, it gave her an ounce of hope she knew would crush her in the future, and yet she fell for his soft words and his warm smile and his bright eyes over and over and over again. 

She attempted to keep her voice as level as possible as she spoke, “Alright, Jason, I think that’s enough from you. I need to get dressed.”

He caught the T-shirt that she threw his way. “You kicking me out?” 

She didn’t know if he sounded offended or joking or just plain dumbfounded. He stood up, his face unreadable. Also not a good sign—shit, what if he knew? What if he knew that she was in love with him? What if she’d been too obvious and he’d found out?

“Mhmm,” she hummed, putting on a bra despite the sheer panic tearing at her veins. She tried to ignore the hungry star he sent her way and the heat pooling between her thighs. “I’m going to be late again if you stay.”

“Oh?” he asked, and she knew by the smugness in his voice Jason didn’t see that as a bad thing. Still, he pulled up the boxers they’d discarded near the bed the night before. 

She nudged him toward the door. His shirt wasn’t even on—she could see the red circle on his shoulder where she’d accidentally bit as she came—and blushed. A thrill shot through her. Fuck, she wanted him, badly. Still, she needed him out. 

“I’ll see you later?” she finally said despite the lump in her throat. (Unfortunately) he tugged on his shirt. 

“Of course, love.” Jason pecked her cheek—it had to have been an innocent, friendly gesture, right?—before saying. “Good luck today.”

He exited, though not before checking that Roy wasn’t around. She closed the door behind him as quietly as possible, leaning up against it to steady herself. 

She loved this arrangement of theirs because she could get closer to Jason, but at the same time, it was tearing her apart. Jason didn’t- it was just sex. This was just sex to him, and she would do well to keep it that way in her own mind. 

No matter what, she couldn’t get hopeful. Even cautious optimism was off the table. 

She breathed in deeply, listening to the muffled voices of Roy and Jason presumably in the kitchen. _Okay_ , she told herself. _You need to get over him_. 

With that impossibility in her mind, she got ready for the interview in silence. 

* * *

Despite her earlier blues, her hands shook from excitement as she walked out of the conference room. 

Mr. Eliot, a small, elderly man who definitely had some city miles from living in Gotham, had welcomed her and asked her several questions typical of a formal job interview—“What are some of your strengths?” “Are you a leader or a follower?” “Why would you be a good journalist for the paper?” among others—and she believed she had answered them relatively well—“I’d definitely say diplomacy, problem-solving, and working well under pressure,” “It depends; I lead when it’s needed, but am willing to step back when someone more knowledgeable is available,” “I don’t stop until things are completed; this includes getting information crucial to the development of the newspaper.” 

She thanked all those years she spent as a vigilante; not only had she gained confidence in now-mundane environments like this, but she had also been given useful experience when working with others. It was a daunting task at first—despite regularly going up against Gotham’s villains, a job interview for a career that she was genuinely interested in felt like the most terrifying thing all of a sudden (Scarecrow didn't have a damn thing on the blasé receptionist who regarded her coldly when she first checked in).

So as to feel more within her own element, she’d decided to treat it as a weak-willed interrogation; she gave what was needed and what was expected while still remaining fully in control of the conversation. Adding a hefty serving of charm also helped, mainly in carrying on the conversation but also in masking her trembling anxieties. 

He’d gone over her resume, too, and told her how he’d been pleasantly surprised; she privately thanked Clark for getting her that internship at the Planet a few years back when she was still in school. While most of her other jobs after that hadn’t revolved around journalism—waitressing and bartending mainly (she couldn’t very well put ‘saving Gotham on a daily basis’ down, although the thought was tempting)—he said that her work ethic would make up for a general lack of experience. 

Needless to say, it had gone well. Mr. Eliot said that he’d call back in a few days’ time with the results. 

She tried not to smile too widely or grip his hand too tightly out of sheer excitement. Between her previous nerves, the good vibes she’d gotten from the whole interview, and the fact that she’d see Jason right after, she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from quirking up as she walked through the lobby. 

Jason was outside waiting for her. Leaned up against the side of a magazine stand, with a red hoodie on—God, he was such a dork and she loved it—beneath a heavy coat, his hair was still messy from sleeping earlier. He met her with a boyish grin. 

“How’d it go, sweetheart?” he asked when she was finally beside him. 

Shuddering against the cold clawing at her hands and neck (and maybe also because Jason’s faint dimples looked absolutely lovely paired with his smile and ice-blue eyes), she grinned. “They said I was a good candidate, and that they’d get back to me within the next few days.”

“They’d be fools not to take you.”

“Please,” she laughed, rolling her eyes despite the warmth blooming in her chest at the compliment. _Get over him?_ What on Earth had she been thinking earlier? There was no way she’d ever stop loving him. “I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

He smiled. “Not at all; I got here a few minutes ago.”

“You could have waited inside for me, you know?” she asked, still skeptical. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she doubted a few minutes could make them _that_ red. 

“Nah, something tells me they wouldn’t’ve let me in,” he said with an easy laugh. “I think I look like too much of a criminal.”

While the jab at himself was meant to be light, she frowned at it. Yes, Jason looked a little rough around the edges, but he had good reason to be—he’d grown up on Gotham’s streets, and had seen his fair share of pain and violence. He was really just a sweet boy who needed a hug. That morning, for example, he’d been so clingy and adorable and warm (even if he had also been a cheeky little shit at times). Her heart ached at all of the suffering he tried to hide behind his perceived toughness, and she cursed the world for carving its hardships so deeply into him. 

“You don’t look like a criminal to me,” she said, and offered up a smile. 

Jason’s face softened, and the rueful, joking mask he’d been wearing melted away. “Ah, thanks, sweetheart. What- what do I look like to you?”

 _The love of my life, the person I want to spend my future with, my everything_ , she thought immediately, but decided against voicing. “You look like someone I trust; you’re one of my closest friends. Hell, I consider you my family at this point, Jason.”

Which was the truth. Sure, it wasn’t the full truth, but it was truthful nonetheless. They’d started out as friends and he wanted them to continue being friends, so she’d told him what he’d wanted to hear. 

“Yeah?” 

She couldn’t distinguish his emotions. When she flicked her eyes up to him, she noticed that he was staring hard at the ground. Something she could only describe as resignation settled onto his face when he met her eyes again. 

“Yeah,” she said, and her voice cracked, because she didn’t know what to feel or what to say. She licked her lips. “I- you’re definitely one of my favorite people.”

She’d almost said it. She’d almost said ‘ _I’m in love with you_ ’ out loud to Jason in the middle of the street like the lovesick girl she was. Mentally, she kicked herself because fuck, what if she’d ruined everything between them? What if she’d fucked over his happiness? Christ, how could she be so selfish?

He smiled at her sadly, like he knew what she was going to say and like he hated the words. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She felt sick. Something, maybe regret or sadness or guilt or maybe some unholy mixture of the three, curled and dug its way into her gut; she was so goddamn stupid for thinking that she could do this without getting hurt or hurting him. Fucking hell, she was pitiful, and she was a real shit friend. 

Coughing to ease the tension, she rubbed her hands together. “You ah, you want to head back home now? It’s kind of cold and we shouldn’t stay out too long.”

“Sure.”

That was a very hesitant response; she cursed in her head every word in every language that she knew. Jason still looked at her strangely. She refused to face him front on for fear of showing her true emotions once more. 

“Fuck, it’s terrible out,” she said despite his scrutiny and lackluster response. She clenched and unclenched her hands, focusing on the cold stabbing at her fingertips instead of the nauseous feeling spreading through her body like ink through water. 

He was quiet for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his expression and almost cried. His eyes regarded her carefully, objectively, like she was someone he was analyzing to take down in the most efficient manner possible rather than a friend. The look darted away a moment later when something more tender took its place. Great, now he was pitying her and her stupid fucking feelings.

“Forgot your gloves?” That was a peace offering, and they both knew it was. It lightened up the air between them as they walked, ever so slightly. And thank fucking God for that; she swore she was suffocating beneath his heavy stare. 

Awkwardly, she said, “Ah, yeah. I was kind of in a hurry this morning.”

That was true. Between discreetly messing with Jason when Roy was in the kitchen with them, redoing her hair six times, and making sure she had everything in order, she had just barely left on time. 

“Even after waking up so early?” Jason asked, and finally, _finally_ , a smile found its way onto his face again. Whatever relief she felt was overshadowed by the fact that she knew his mind was still working over what he saw, trying to get to a conclusion. 

“Yeah.”

“Here, take mine-”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. Jason tugged them off anyway and held them out for her to take. “Jay, I’m not taking those.”

“Huh, then I guess we’ll both have cold hands.” He pocketed them, daring her to protest. Christ, she swore he was more stubborn than she was. It was endearing that he’d go to such lengths for her, though she wished he’d think about himself just once. 

She rolled her eyes at the cheeky smile directed to her. How could he do that? How could he change his emotions so quickly? How could he influence her mood so wholly? It was like that uncomfortable conversation never happened, and she didn’t know whether to rejoice or come clean. She chose neither, voicing a playful jab instead: “You’re such a child sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Christ,” she lamented, though the word trembled because of the shivers hijacking her body. 

"Want my coat, too?”

“Jason.” She shot him a look as if to say ‘ _Really?_ ’ “If I didn’t take your gloves, why on earth do you think I’ll take your jacket?”

“I’ve got a hoodie underneath,” he reasoned, like it was an adequate excuse. 

She sighed, shuddering from the cold once more. “I can see that, and while I appreciate the gesture, it’s also below freezing right now.”

“And?”

“Jason Peter Todd!” she scolded. “Take care of yourself first, okay? I’m seriously fine right now.”

Jason was quiet for a moment, and she feared she may have gone too far with the reprimand or else he may have taken her words too seriously. Just as she was about to apologize for her snappiness, he spoke. “How about a compromise, love?”

She cocked her head sideways as he pulled out the gloves from his pocket. “A compromise?” 

“Uh huh. Here, you take the left glove-” she squinted her eyes in suspicion, but also in confusion because his voice was softer than the flutter of butterfly wings, “-don’t look at me like that, I’m keeping the right one.”

“What about your other hand?” she asked, finally giving in and taking it. The warmth still pressed into the fabric shocked her. 

“I’m so glad you asked, love.” That lopsided grin was back, more fragile this time, but with a touch of mischief all the same. His ungloved hand clasped hers—she was embarrassed by the soft gasp that left her lips—before he placed them both into his coat pocket. “There. How’s that?”

If it was possible to fall even more in love with him, she did, in that exact moment. The yellow, late-morning sun glittered beautifully in his eyes, and the smile he wore—splitting his face in half, genuinely happy, like they were normal people, and the two of them holding hands was _normal_ —had her heart caught in her throat. Despite being previously exposed to the chilling winds Gotham bitterly offered, his calloused fingers were still hot against her frigid ones. Their shoulders brushed together with every step: one more point of articulation in which she and Jason touched. Fuck, she really was a fool for him.

“Perfect,” she breathed, and she didn’t even care if he saw the pure adoration in her eyes anymore. As it was, her cheeks were impossibly warm from love and the cold, but hopefully he’d just see it as the latter. 

His hand squeezed hers ever so slightly. “Glad to hear it. Not so bad for a dumbass like me, huh?”

“Alright, now you’re fishing for compliments, Todd,” she said and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“So what if I am?” Jason asked, cockiness laced into his gravelly voice. She sighed in exasperation despite the fact that _she and Jason were holding hands_ and that she swore her heart rate could put a beluga whale in cardiac arrest because of it. 

Turning to him and raising an eyebrow, she said, “First and foremost, Jason, you aren’t a dumbass; you’re one of the smartest people I know. Second, you need to give yourself more credit. Third, and I cannot stress this enough, _you’re amazing_.”

Part of her winced because Christ, her love for him was less-than inconspicuous at the moment; he obviously wasn’t interested in her (friends held hands all the time, right?) and she didn’t want to force her feelings onto him. One look into his astonished eyes made up for it. He squeezed her hand three times before responding shyly. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

“Of course, Jason. Any time.” And she meant it. 

They walked the next few blocks in a comfortable silence. His thumb traced little circles over the back of her hand and she swore she melted a little more with each revolution. A month ago, if she’d been told Jason Todd would be holding her hand walking through the streets of Gotham, she would have laughed out loud. But there they were, looking, dare she say, like a couple in love. 

God, a girl could dream. His reaction earlier was a strong indication that she was just projecting, though. 

“So,” Jason cleared his throat. “Taxi or subway?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Bruce really has been rubbing off on you, huh? Subway, obviously.”

“I took the subway here, smelled like piss,” he said, shrugging and wrinkling his nose. God, she wanted to peck a kiss on the tip of it.

“When does it _not_ smell like piss?” she asked with a laugh. Her knees still shook despite the more cheerful turn of their conversation. 

“Fair.” 

It was far from romantic. She knew that it was far from romantic, and yet her heart still fluttered. Flecks of mud spattered across her shoes as they walked and Jason stepped in a slushy puddle somewhere along the line; they smelled cigarette smoke and she felt Jason’s hand clench around hers again because he’d been trying to quit; by the time they reached the subway entrance, her face was numb and her eyes were teary, so she looked far from pretty. 

Hell, it was a just compromise, just to make sure both of their hands weren’t cold amidst Gotham’s bitter winter. He didn’t mean anything by it other than to keep her safe and healthy. It wasn’t anything other than a convenient solution, and she shouldn’t have thought that much into it. 

He might have even done it out of pity, because he had to know she was so goddamn hopelessly in love with him that it killed her a little bit every single day. Jason was just too kind to shut her down harshly; he was too sweet to make her cry in the middle of downtown Gotham; he was too considerate to even mention her near slip-up to keep things tidy between them. 

She gripped his hand tighter as if to keep him from slipping away from her completely, knowing the entire way back that she was a coward and she was an idiot and she was going to hurt the both of them because of her own goddamn selfishness. 


	6. Late Nights and Later Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Ohhhhh boy. 
> 
> Me? Write 15,000 words for a single chapter? It's more common than you think.
> 
> Two things: please don't hate me, and just know that this was as torturous to write as it may be for you folks to read -- the amount of fucking pining these two dumbasses do in this chapter? Just... buckle up.

Jason was conflicted to say the least. 

This whole, godforsaken situation twisted him this way and that, pulling him between ‘ _I love her_ ’ to ‘ _I think she might love me back_ ’ to ‘ _Christ, we’re_ just friends _, aren’t we?_ ’ The mental and emotional whiplash just about killed him; he was pretty sure he had some kind of brain trauma from the way his mind shifted in every direction imaginable. 

He couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy the sex amidst the psychological strain because fuck, she was as relentless as he was, and she felt so good against his body. Every single thing she did, from the short pants she huffed out after a particularly long kiss to how she tore his clothes off of him after a long day to the way she whispered his name when she came undone, drove him fucking wild. 

And the frequency in which they had sex? After the brief dry spell they’d had after they’d settled the terms of their _agreement_ , they’d met up daily; for the past week, he’d been sneaking into her room at ungodly hours every night, and she always welcomed him with that sexy curve of her mouth and those enchanting eyes of hers. 

Jason even got to wake up with her in his arms, her body still hot and soft against his. Every night and every morning, he went to sleep and woke up to the smell of her skin; three days ago he’d felt her eyelashes fluttering on his cheek when he finally came to; yesterday, he’d felt the tip of his cock still tucked in her heat when he stirred. They awoke in each other’s arms, their sweat and cum and breath having mingled all night long. 

His knees went weak just at the mere thought. He was fucked (literally and figuratively), every way he looked at it. 

Jason couldn’t escape his love for her, especially now that he’d gotten to see the most intimate parts of her, whether it be her naked body or just plain domesticity. 

He’d learned so fucking much about her—she was a cuddler when she slept, sometimes to the point of near-suffocation against her chest (not that Jason minded—that was a valiant way to go in his eyes), and she mumbled in French when she dreamed—and if he had to give her up, if anyone else got to know that about her, Jason knew he might die. 

Previously, he’d thought she was the air in his lungs and the fire in his chest; now, he knew those to be distinct facts. He couldn’t just live without her like these magical nights hadn’t happened. He couldn’t _let her leave_ for someone else. 

Why was he _so selfish_? 

He couldn’t fathom it. Jason remembered two weeks ago when he’d been ready to give up his own happiness for hers. How was he supposed to do that now that he knew the taste of her skin? How could he live without her now that he knew how perfectly his hands fit against her hips? How could he sleep without her now that he knew what she felt like in his arms? 

Jason couldn’t. He’d unravel completely if he had to let her go after knowing the intimacy of her body. 

And he knew it was terrible and shitty and greedy and every other goddamn synonym for awful of him to think that, and yet he couldn’t just _stop_. 

He wasn't able to escape the maelstrom of thoughts racing through his head. It was late, maybe two in the morning. They’d just had a patrol, and she hadn’t told him to come tonight. Christ, it was the first night in a week where he wasn’t _inside_ of her. Both his cock and his heart ached at the thought of that.

Jason should be sleeping right now, or at least trying to sleep. He _knew_ that, and yet couldn’t. His stupid inner voice wouldn’t shut up, and the rain pelting his window didn’t exactly help calm him down—his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down with every gust of wind sounding like someone was trying to peel off the screen outside his window. He was all wound up, maybe from the mission they’d had or maybe from utter self-hatred or maybe from both. 

He couldn’t rest, not at a time like this, not when he had to get to the bottom of what he needed to do and what he wanted to do. 

Fuck, he missed her already; it had only been three hours since he last saw her, and already he craved her touch and the sound of her breath and her lovely smile. 

Maybe she’d gotten tired of him? He’d tried to give her as many orgasms as possible, but it could have been that it wasn’t enough. She deserved more, no matter what he did. Why else would she be so insatiable when fooling around with him?

Jason buried his face in his hands with a groan. He needed to stop thinking about her. This was only going to get worse, especially when she eventually found someone else. In vain, he pinched the bridge of his nose to expel that particularly awful thought. 

He wouldn’t be able to do it. Jason would rather be killed and revived a thousand times instead of having to let her go. 

He didn’t want- he couldn’t just-

His body stood up before his mind was even aware of it—Jason was out his door into the darkened hallway and at her door in less than five seconds of realizing what he was doing. He knocked as softly as he could, but got no response. The soft light that shone beneath her door indicated that she was still probably awake, unless she had somehow fallen asleep before she had turned whatever was casting it off. 

Unlikely. Jason was well aware of the fact that she could stay up as late as needed without any caffeine in her system (it was kind of scary—he almost preferred Tim’s unholy coffee addiction). 

He pressed his ear to the door. A faint ticking and clicking alerted him to the fact that she was awake, and working on something. Jason frowned; he both worried about and adored her work ethic. Seeing as it was almost three in the morning, however, most of his emotions were in the ‘worry’ category. 

Jason tried the handle; it dipped down. Right. She wouldn’t have any need to lock it if Jason wasn’t in there with her. 

Without thinking of the consequences—though a tiny voice in his head did shout something that sounded like ‘ _Hey, jackass, maybe respect her boundaries?!_ ’—he opened the door. It creaked ever so slightly, which Jason replied to with a hushed curse. 

He saw her hunched over her computer, humming slightly off key as her fingers typed up a storm. The sound alone was somehow relaxing; Jason thought about what it would be like, formally sharing a bedroom with her and falling asleep to the _tack-tack-tack_ of her keyboard and her terrible singing. He could only dream. Quietly, he closed the door behind him before getting closer. 

The blue glow of the screen traced over her cheeks and eyelids, striping down her nose. Bathed in ethereal light, she looked like an angel. She was absolutely beautiful. And, well, she was absolutely pissed. 

With headphones jammed into her ears, she scowled at the screen. She hadn’t even heard him enter. Part of him was distressed because hell, what if he’d been an intruder?—another part of him was infinitely glad. He wanted to surprise her with a barrage of kisses, like she deserved (maybe then he’d encourage her to put his mouth to better use). 

Scooping her damp hair over one shoulder, he pressed a feather-light kiss onto the back of her neck. She jumped upon contact. Frowning, she pulled out one of her earbuds, but didn’t turn to look at him. 

“Jason?”

He smiled (unintentionally) when she said his name. “Yep. But what are you still doing up, sweetheart? It’s three in the morning.”

“Two-forty-nine, actually. And I’m almost done.” Somehow, the know-it-all in her voice dazzled him. Sure, when Damian or Tim did it, it was annoying as hell, but when she did it? Jason was pretty sure the gates of heaven opened up for him. 

“If you’re almost done, why not sleep now and finish it up tomorrow?” He sounded needy and he knew she had to have heard it too. 

“I have other things I need to do tomorrow, Jay.”

“Am I one of them?”

She snorted, finally looking up from the computer screen. Tiredness swirled in her eyes—Jason cursed every god he knew for making it her turn to write up a report to send to Bruce about their most recent escapade; at the same time, she managed to look radiant even when masked with dark circles under her eyes and the slight crease in her forehead. “God, you’re such a dork.”

 _I’m your dork_ , Jason thought, but didn’t dare voice it. “And?”

“ _And_ , I shouldn’t be surprised at your dorkiness anymore, but somehow I still am.” A pause; her eyes scanned over the last paragraph, making an edit somewhere to the end. “There we go. Now, what are you still doing up?”

“Gotta watch out for you, love.” He’d always have her back. Jason made that promise a long time ago, and he’d be damned if he broke it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She fought a smile and lost. “Thanks, Jason.”

“No problem.” 

On the outside, he was calm and cool and, dare he say, charming. On the inside, however, Jason was freaking out over how fucking cute her bunched cheeks and reddened lips and squinted eyes were. It should be fucking illegal for someone to put him in cardiac arrest that easily, without even lifting a single finger. He didn't want to ever leave her side. 

Tugging out her other earbud and shutting down her computer, the smile she wore somehow grew shy. “Would you like to stay tonight?”

That calm, cool, and charming façade he wore before? Gone. Destroyed. Completely obliterated. 

“Uh, sure, sweetheart.” Fuck, she could really read his mind, huh? Part of him felt giddy at the prospect, but another part of him worried that she already knew he was hopelessly in love with her. 

“I, um, I can’t say sex is on the table, tonight,” she said. She twisted her fingers in her lap, averting her eyes. “It’s late, and I’m really tired, if that’s okay with you?”

Something in his chest and gut wrenched the wrong way. He hated the self-loathing clearly coating her face and the way she appeared so apprehensive toward him and the way she couldn’t look him in the eye. More than anything, though, he hated that she saw him in this little arrangement of their solely for the sex. 

“I-” Jason started, then froze when he realized the terrible and selfish three words that would end everything between them. “Love, I don’t care about the sex. I’m your friend, first and foremost. That means your wellbeing is above everything else.”

That was another truth, though it certainly wasn’t the full truth. He wanted her to be safe and happy and healthy, forever, if possible. She deserved that much, though in Jason’s eyes, she deserved a hell of a lot more. If he was being honest, though, Jason would have said ‘ _I don't care about the sex because I_ _love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_. . . .’

Her eyes were shiny, like bubbles about to pop; was she about to cry? His gut twisted up at the mere thought. “Thanks, Jay. The same goes for you.”

He cleared his throat, not knowing where to go from there. “Would you- would you like me to carry you over?”

He winced at his stupid, idiotic, dumbass words. No sane person said those things; no normal person was that brainless. Jason swore that if she hadn’t been right in front of him, he would have hit his head against the drywall until either it dented in or he passed out, whichever came first. 

“What?” She blinked—he prayed it was because of his stupid question and not because he’d said something to make her genuinely upset.

“Um, well, you’ve had a super long day and y’know. . . ?” 

Man, someone get him some quill and ink because he was _really_ doing his boy Billy Shakespeare justice. The sheer amount of _eloquence_ —his fucking brain really was hopeless around her, wasn’t it? Someone just shoot him in the neck to save him from floundering so _spectacularly_. 

Jason figured he couldn’t completely blame himself, because that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. What he’d actually almost said was something along the lines of ‘ _Well, you’ve had a long day kicking ass and looking like a fucking goddess doing it, so would you please let me worship you in any way possible?_ ’ He figured that his response, while absolutely idiotic, didn’t at least betray his true feelings and hopefully didn’t creep her out. 

She snorted, finally laughing. Christ, his heart fucking fluttered at the sound alone. And when her eyes, glittering crescents, shyly looked at him, he felt Cupid’s goddamn arrow pierce through his chest for the billionth time that day. 

“Are you calling me a damsel in distress?” She smiled at him, but her words slapped him across the face. 

“No, God no- trust me, sweetheart, I know you could kick my ass any day of the week, I just figured that because of the mission today and the report, you’d maybe want a rest from walking-” How hopeless could he be? How _pitiful_ could he be? Why the hell did he have to ramble like some dumbass in love? His hand slapped against his face, finding the bridge of his nose to sort out the stupid thoughts all racing through his head. “Fuck, I just, I don’t know? I want to help you in any way I can.”

Giggling (a sound prettier than anything he’d ever heard before), she said, “Jay, I was just teasing.”

“Ah.” 

His mouth went dry, maybe because he finally realized the shirt she was wearing was one he’d ‘accidentally’ left behind. 

“Trust me, I’m fully aware that I can beat you up.” She grinned at him, raising her arms and legs up. “Okay, Mr. Todd, please carry me to the bed.” 

‘ _One look from you, love, and I’m whipped_.’ Yeah, like he could say that and not be immediately thrown (and cussed) out from her room; she’d probably judo flip him into tomorrow for expressing such romantic intentions when she so clearly only needed him as a friend and an occasional fuck-buddy. 

Instead, he said, “Anything for you,” which really wasn’t much better if he wanted to disguise his utter adoration of her. 

His arms hooked behind her knees and her back, and he enjoyed, maybe a little too much, the feeling of her body up against his. Taking the five breezy steps to her bed—yeah, he fully realized how dumb his earlier proposition was, but at least she was humoring him—he laid her down as gently as he could. 

She started shuffling around, getting under the covers (Jason would join her, but she was both a blanket-hog and too warm for him to stay under with her the entire time). He just watched as her long, muscled legs disappeared beneath the blanket.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I’m waiting for you to get comfortable, love.”

She yawned as she spoke, stretching out and distorting her words in the process. “And what if I need you to be comfortable?”

He swore his heart fucking stopped beating, Christ, was she- did she mean- could she need him, _love_ him, the way he needed and loved her? Maybe she meant it sexually? That had to be it, right? She couldn’t love him back. There was no way. But didn’t she say no sex for the night? Fuck, what did she _mean_?

Even in the dim light, Jason saw red bloom over the cheeks he could kiss for hours. She looked mortified that she’d said something like that out loud. 

“Oh?” he said, because what else could he say?

Jason could ask her what the hell she meant by that, like if she couldn’t sleep soundly without him like he couldn’t with her, or like if she loved waking up in his arms as much as he loved holding her, or if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him like he did with her. But Jason didn’t ask her any of those, because his heart wouldn’t be able to take it when she inevitably didn’t love him the same way. 

“I’m just kidding you,” she said, not looking him in the eyes. 

He chuckled and smiled like those four words didn’t shred his entire body into nothing. Where was the goddamn Lazarus Pit when he needed it? “Of course. Am I- am I good to join you now?”

The slight stutter he’d taken up betrayed his emotions—it had to have. Fuck his voice and fuck his heart and fuck his feelings. He really was helpless when it came to her. 

“Yeah.”

Despite the most recent blow to his ego (and, y’know, his fucking _heart_ ), Jason managed to snuggle into her. 

He loved her bed, not just because it was _her_ bed but because it was a twin, meaning the only way the both of them could fit was to be intimately embraced. Then he remembered that he shouldn’t find another single thing to love about her (as impossible as that was) because she wasn’t his and he didn’t deserve to love her because of that. 

His arms wrapped around her waist, fitting perfectly in the curve of her lower back. Their chests pressed together, and Jason buried his head in the crook of her neck. The sweet smell of her skin had a curious effect on him: it made him horny and drowsy at the same time. Her lovely hands wound themselves in his hair, dragging light nails over his scalp. 

Even after she ripped his heart into little ribbons and threw the pieces in the air like fucking confetti, Jason found solace in their closeness. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked. Jason knew he was a big guy—while his extensive muscle mass was good in combat, it wasn’t really good for cuddling. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any kind of pain or discomfort. 

“Not at all.”

She flicked off the bedside lamp, and the shadows swallowed them up. Only faint scraps of streetlight from outside provided clarity amidst the dark, though those small puzzle pieces were dimmed and warped by the storm outside. But they were safe. Jason was safe in her arms, and he prayed that she was safe in his, too. He didn’t mind the darkness if it meant he got to lay with her in the near-quiet. 

He felt every breath and every pulse of hers bleed into him—hell, she gave him _life_. Hell, what if he was leeching life from her? He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to hurt her more. “Are you sure?”

She giggled softly, and Jason felt the sound bud and fizzle against his cheek. “Positive, Jay.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice catching in his throat because hell, she was utterly gorgeous. “Good. I- I’m glad.”

Maybe out of self consciousness for wearing his heart on his sleeve or maybe because she was just so _warm_ , Jason sank deeper into her embrace. 

“Jason,” she said, like his very name was a gift from God. He nuzzled his nose into her shoulder, trying to hide his erratic heartbeat and the love pouring out of him that he couldn’t bother to stifle anymore. “I really am- I’m really glad that you’re my friend.”

“Yeah?” he asked. 

That was all he could manage. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe, not when he had dared to hope that she would say ‘ _I really am in love with you_ ,’ to him, only to have her drive a fucking spike straight through his chest. He should have known, _he should have known_. 

“Yeah.”

“I-” he gulped, attempting to blink away the fuzzy heat of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad that I’m your friend too.”

That was both a lie and not. He loved her as a friend and an admirer, even if he tended to lean more towards the latter. He enjoyed their friendship mainly because it felt so _easy_ and _simple_. At the same time, Jason knew he’d never be able to see her as just a friend, despite whatever measures he tried to take in order to do so. 

Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, the act both twisting the stake she’d just plunged into him and soothing its sting. With a voice more silken than rose petals, she said, “You’re really important to me, you know?”

Jason wanted to say ‘ _I love you I love you I love you, and I think I’ve always loved you, and you are the sun in my sky, the heart in my chest, and I swear to God that I love you, maybe more than anything and anyone ever before, and I don’t ever want to stop loving you, even if it kills me, I won’t stop loving you, Christ, I love you_.’ 

He wanted to say it over and over again to her so she’d finally _understand_ just how _important_ she was to _him_. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know, sweetheart.” Jason’s voice trembled, and he cursed it and himself for being so goddamn weak for her. “Trust me when I say that you’re my- you’re so goddamn precious to me."

‘ _You’re my favorite person, my beloved, my everything_.’ He wished he could say it, and yet the idea alone raked claws over his stomach with the most potent of fear. 

He felt her chest rise beneath his, and a second later, her heavy and hot breath over his ear. “Thanks, Jay.”

Jason paused for a moment, not knowing where to go from here. Should he let her continue to believe that she was just a friend to him, or should he say that she would never be just a friend? Should he just splatter his heart out and come clean to her, or should he continue to go along with what she wanted to hear? Should he tell her he was in love with her, or should he lie and say he wasn’t? 

He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know, and it was killing him. 

Jason coughed, and instead said, “Hey, uh, I know it’s short notice and everything, but do you wanna help crash B’s gala tomorrow with me?”

“What?”

He didn’t know if that was a positive reaction or not—he prayed to God that it was a happy kind of surprise, and not a what-the-hell-why-is-he-asking-me-out-on-a-date-when-we’re- _just_ - _friends_?! Kind of surprise. Jason kept on talking to try and suss it out (or maybe because he couldn’t stop from making things worse). 

“Well, Dick let it slip that B was hosting something, and I just figured because we’re partners in crime and everything, you’d want to get up to some trouble with me?”

His body ached, for once not because of patrol, but because of the emotional hellfire this entire situation torched him with. Between wanting to give her everything she needed and wanting to tell her the truth, Jason felt himself pulling apart at the seams. 

She pursed her lips. “I’m already going.”

“Excuse me?” All of the wind in his sails blew away. She was already deciding to go to it? How? (And who did he have to beat up for asking her to it before him?)

“B asked me last week to come, just to have a few extra eyes and hands on deck in case something happens,” she said. He cursed beneath his breath. It wasn’t like she could say _no_ to Bruce “I Am the Night” Wayne. 

Still, he continued, albeit carefully. “Why’d you. . . ?”

“There was a monetary reward, and I needed it?” Christ, if money was such a concern, why couldn’t she just have come to him? Jason wouldn’t have minded it in the slightest. 

“Damn, bummer.” 

Okay, how to salvage this? Well, technically speaking, he could still show up and they could still hang out and flirt and hopefully have sex during and/or after the damn thing. He could still woo her in a Gatsby-esque manner (but be infinitely more successful than that Old Sport) just like he could still bring the thrill of a high-class romancing even if they weren’t actually going to it together. 

She squinted her eyes, knowing full well that he was up to something. “You’re still going, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” 

“ _Great_ ,” she frowned. In the dark, that little crease between her furrowed eyebrows was quite possibly the cutest thing he’d seen all day. 

“Hey, it could be fun,” Jason said, defending himself. “I can roleplay as the captured thief and you can roleplay as the horny cop that needs information.”

She shot him an unimpressed glare. It was somewhat lessened by the sheer amount of drowsiness swimming in her gaze, barely even pricking his self-esteem. “I really worry about you sometimes, Jay.”

“You’re not into that sort of thing?” he asked, snuggling further into her. 

He grit his jaw when he smelled his shirt on her; it smelled like her, from her shampoo to her lotion to just the tang of her sweat. Jason wanted both her to wear that shirt for the rest of time and to steal it back for himself, just so he could breathe in her scent into the early hours of the morning. 

“I can’t say that roleplay is something I’ve ever done before.”

He kissed the skin right behind her ear before jokingly saying, “We can always experiment. If you feel up to it, of course.”

She chuckled, and Jason relished feeling her body shake beneath him. He never thought it was possible to feel this happy or this safe in his entire life. Jason swore that every godforsaken second in his two lifetimes was meant to lead up to this peaceful moment; this was the only part of his entire existence that mattered—holding her, being held back, in the dim light of a too-small room on a too-small bed while the rain outside pulled them into sleep. 

“You’re so weird,” she said with the loveliest smile ever. 

Her hands found his hair and Jason melted into her. She knew exactly where to curl her fingers around and scrape her nails and tug, just a little bit. Jason couldn’t help it; he moaned, resting so completely against her that he was sure there wasn’t even an atom’s space between them. He drowned in her scent, and he didn’t even care that he was sinking into the deep, never to see the light of day again. 

“ _Mm_ ,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “And yet you continue to let me kiss and fuck and cuddle with you.”

She hummed, and Jason grazed his mouth over her jaw, feeling the sound vibrate through her skin. He drank it up like he was dying of thirst. “That’s because you’re so goddamn good with your mouth.”

“You’re right, I am pretty good when I eat you ou-”

“I meant that you’re persuasive, Todd.” He felt her cheeks shift, and he assumed she was grinning as she spoke. Jason loved that she could tease him like that, even though he knew she didn’t mean it the way he did when he teased her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

He breathed in the smell of her shampoo to ground himself before responding. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who said I was good with my tongue that one time.”

“Maybe I meant it as persuasiveness then, too.”

“Or maybe I really am just unmatched when it comes to wielding this bad boy?” Jason suggested. 

He kissed along the side of her neck, feather-light, as if to convince her to agree with him. Moving back up to her ear, he gently bit its lobe, loving the impossibly-sweet gasp that left her lips. 

“ _Jason_.”

“Yes, love?” he asked before kissing, open-mouthed, right below her ear. 

She tugged on his hair and pulled him back. “None of that. I can’t afford to get horny this early in the morning, or else we’ll never get sleep.”

“Not until you admit that I’m good at pleasuring you with my mouth.”

He couldn’t help it; their closeness, the smell of her hair, the feel of her hands, all of it made him drunk off of love for her. Jason knew it was selfish to want to steal her away for himself—when he’d asked for a full day in bed with just _her_ , he’d almost kicked himself for sounding so pathetic—and yet he couldn’t stop the idea of _just them_ from weaving through his synapses. 

He thought that if she slept in late and missed Bruce’s gala, then they could have more fun—they could _enjoy_ each other—and if she needed the money that badly, he could just reimburse her. Then Jason realized that that sounded like prostitution and that she’d probably see it as an insult, and guilt carved into his stomach once more. 

How could he be so goddamn disrespectful to her? How could even be so fucking stupid? Jason didn’t think it was possible to hate himself anymore, but suddenly, he wished he’d just drop dead for thinking such a vile and idiotic thought. 

He needed to make it up to her, even if she didn’t even know what the hell he was thinking (hopefully). 

One of his hands made the necessary sacrifice of leaving her waist to grab the hand that held his hair captive. He brought it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss there and watching as her eyes lit up with stars and the moon and the entire goddamn universe. 

“Jay,” she warned. 

Jason leaned in to peck her jaw. “What?”

“Stop that.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, brushing his lips over her pulse. Even if she said ‘no sex’ Jason wanted to glorify her skin with light touches—she deserved that much, on top of the entire world. While he was still working on how to give her the latter, the former would have to do for now.

“You know what you’re doing,” she said, but made no move to stop him. 

He dragged his nose down the side of her neck, breathing in her flowery scent like it was a drug and he needed a fix. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“I mean it.”

She didn’t sound like she did, not with the way her voice said it in a hushed way or the way the covers whispered beneath him as she shifted to accommodate him better or the way her breath caught when he finally reached her collarbone. 

“Do you?” he asked. 

Jason just barely grazed his mouth over a small freckle there, one that had been haunting him for a week. He had long ago made it a personal mandate to find and kiss every single beauty mark that dotted her skin; while he had yet to fulfill that want, he was even closer to it. 

“Jason. As much as I absolutely love this-” his heart pounded loud—loud enough that he was sure she heard—at the word ‘love,’ “-weren’t you also the one who suggested I get to bed soon?”

He groaned, nestling back into her shoulder in defeat. “Yeah.”

“Don’t pout, Jay,” she giggled. It was a suitable replacement for his wounded pride. “There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow to convince me how good you are with your mouth, I promise.”

“Yeah?” he asked, the stirrings of lust shifting in his gut. Jason pressed his lips against her skin in order to lessen his utter need for her (even though Jason was sure his very breath depended on her company). 

“Mhmm.”

Her hands rubbed up and down his back, following every contour of his skin in the process. He closed his eyes. Jason didn’t care if he didn’t wake up the next morning; never seeing the light of day again was more than worth drowning in her sweet smell and her gentle caresses. 

‘ _I love you_ ,’ reverberated around in his skull, sang in his throat, trembled from his fingertips to his toes. Just ‘ _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_. . . .’ forever and ever. 

He needed to let her know—he had to tell her that he was hopelessly in love with her, that he probably always would be, even if she didn’t feel the same way. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered against her skin. He swore his hands shook around her waist. 

One of her hands smoothed back his hair, her fingertips trailing over his ear. She only mumbled, “Shhh, Jay. Just rest for now, okay?”

His chest panged at the sudden, albeit tender, shut-down. He only hummed in response; he’d tell her tomorrow. He had to, _he had to_. Jason couldn’t keep lying to her, not anymore, not when she would undoubtedly get hurt and want to drop him as a friend. For his sake and for hers, he needed to tell her sooner rather than later. 

His thoughts raced, then floundered, dimming into smooth blackness as she traced sleepy patterns through his hair and over his neck and long his shoulders and against his back. 

Jason didn’t even remember falling asleep. 

* * *

He wished his introduction to the next day was as pleasant and painless. 

Jason woke up to the sound of her phone chiming some obnoxious tone—something with trills and rings and maybe even a fucking xylophone. It didn’t matter _what_ the fuck it was, just that it roused him from the warmest, sweetest, most restful sleep ever. 

“Nooo,” he groaned. Before he was even completely awake, his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her into him. 

She murmured something unintelligible (it sounded an awful lot like ‘ _Un petit oiseau?_ ’ to Jason, though he couldn’t really be sure), before a sharp intake of breath alerted him to her full wake. “ _Mmm_. ‘Morning, Jay.”

She moved beneath him to grab her phone and finally silenced the damn thing. He opened his eyes only for his fucking lungs to explode—golden, early-morning sunshine filtered in from the window beside them, burning her hair a glorious auburn color. He swore she had a halo. 

They hadn’t moved from last night; their legs remained hopelessly tangled; his arms were still wrapped tightly in the curve of her waist; her hands still cradled the back of his neck, toying with the hair at his nape; his head still rested on her shoulder like she was his lifeline, because she _was_ ; her heartbeat still pulsed over his clavicle, reminding him that they were alive and that they were _safe_. Jason had never felt more at home than he did in that moment. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, because it was. Christ, it was maybe even the best morning yet. 

They’d never woken up fully clothed with one another—at least, not before they had started this little arrangement of theirs—and somehow it felt more intimate than being curled in each other’s naked embrace. 

She yawned, ruffling his hair. “I think I could’ve slept another fifteen hours.”

“Oh?” Jason asked, grinning. He wouldn’t mind staying in bed with her for another fifteen hours in the slightest. “Then why don’t you?”

“You know why,” she said, poking him in the cheek, right by his mouth. He nipped at her finger.

“ _Ooooor_ , you could stay in bed with me all day?”

“ _Jason_.”

Even if she said it like she was scolding him, he still loved when she spoke his name. 

He hummed, pressing his lips against her sternum. “Yeah?”

“I have _so much_ I need to do today, which unfortunately means I can’t stay in bed with you.” She tried shifting to get up, her hands pushing down on his shoulders, but Jason refused to budge. He became deadweight on top of her; watching with amusement as she attempted in vain to rise, he took every muttered curse and harsh glare she threw his way and returned them with a grin. 

“Love,” he murmured, trailing his nose up her neck. “Please enlighten me as to what you need to do today, and maybe I’ll let you go.” 

“I’ve got to make breakfast, for starters.”

“I can cover breakfast for today?” Jason suggested, pressing his lips against her clothed breast. 

“I. . . might take you up on that. But, I’ve also got to shower,” she said and rolled her eyes at him. Still, her hands continued to play with his hair (and Jason gladly relaxed into them). 

“Ooh, fun. Mind if I join?”

“We both know if you did that, I wouldn’t get a single thing done.”

“I don’t see a problem with that, sweetheart.” And he didn’t. Pinning her up against the shower wall again, shampooing and conditioning her hair, pampering her skin with his lips? Honestly the ideal for Jason. “What else do you have to do?”

She huffed, falling back down into the sheets. “Well, I need to go for a run.”

“Nah, you’re fit enough. I think some cuddles are what you need.” To emphasize this point, he nestled into her shoulder, his hands smoothing small circles into the small of her back as if to coax her to stay. 

“And I should go through the report one more time before sending it to B,” she said, her voice a higher pitch and trailing off like she was already lost in her thoughts. Whether it be unconsciously or consciously (Jason didn’t really mind either way), her fingers brushed over his back as she spoke. 

Jason hummed, kissing the corner of her jaw. “I can do that for you, angel.”

“Angel? That’s new.” She sounded surprised, like she wasn’t aware that she was the epitome of heavenly. 

“Don’t like it?” He prayed she did, because he was sure she was from heaven at this point, and he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t let the term of endearment slip out in the future. 

“Hmmm. Jury’s still out.”

“I’ll keep using it until you give a verdict,” Jason said with a wink. “What else do you have to do today?”

“I’ve got to be at the Manor in four and a half hours.”

He groaned. “Why so early?”

She laughed loudly, and despite it being first thing in the morning, Jason was quite fond of the sound. “That’s at two p.m.—meaning, not early at all. And my dress is there, Steph is doing my makeup, and B needs to brief me.”

“You can be a little late.”

“I really can’t, Jay,” she laughed. 

“Blame me, then.” 

He knew he sounded desperate, but he just couldn’t help himself (nor could he find it in himself to care). Jason needed to be by her side more than he’d needed anything else in life. He had tasted Eden, between the love-filled nights they’d shared together and the innocent mornings waking up in each other’s arms; if he could help it, he’d cling to that bliss for as long as physically possible. 

Furrowing her eyebrows, she looked at him strangely. “What, and say that I’m powerless against you to B? Yeah, that’s really professional.”

“You’re _not_ powerless against me? Huh, weird.”

 _Please don’t deny it_ , he almost begged. _Because I’m powerless against you_. A giggle bubbled up in her throat. Jason kissed there, praying she didn’t see the love or torment in his eyes. Sweetly, she pulled his head up with careful hands. Her eyes crinkled into soft crescents, and he swore he saw tenderness glimmer within them like embers. 

“Sometimes I am a little powerless against you, Jay.” His heart fucking melted and dropped into his stomach. A smug little grin quirked up the corners of her mouth. “Just not right now.”

There it was. 

“Ugh,” he said with a staged pout. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Only because you’re so stubborn.” While she attempted to wriggle out from him again, Jason held firm. She huffed in frustration. Resigned to her fate, she said, “At least move down a little so I can breathe.”

He feigned hurt. “Was that a fat joke?”

Still, he shuffled down so that his arms fit more comfortably in the dip of her waist and his head rested on her chest. He could hear her heartbeat pulsing right below him; he wanted to fall asleep to the sound every night and wake up to it every morning. 

“Unbelievable. Jason,” she said and poked his side with her index finger. “I doubt there’s even an ounce of fat on you; you’re solid muscle. Hell, I’m even jealous of how good your thighs look.”

“Really?” There wasn’t a joke this time. Completely bewitched, his face and ears burned from the compliment. 

“Yes, Jay. You’re gorgeous.” She smiled, arching an eyebrow. 

He choked on his own breath. _Real smooth, Casanova_ , he groaned inwardly. 

“You, uh, you are too, angel.”

“You’re so cute, Jay.” God, he wanted to listen to that melodic laugh of hers every single fucking day for the rest of his life. 

“Not sexy, too?”

“Gorgeous, cute, and sexy are three very different things,” she teased. _Recovery time_. 

“And yet,” he rumbled with the huskiest voice he could manage. “You manage to be all three simultaneously.”

For one glorious second, her face flowered with a poppy-red and her eyes glittered with stars. And the way that was all directed at him, like he was her fucking world, made an ‘ _I love you_ ’ chorus in the back of his throat. Christ, she was so fucking kissable it hurt. 

But, it was gone in an instant. 

“Oh my God,” she chuckled, throwing her head back. “You can add ‘cheesy’ to the list of things you are, Jason.”

He pecked right above her sternum. Her heartbeat echoed across his lips during the brief contact. “What can I say? It’s a gift being this talented.”

She rolled her eyes. “ _Dork_. But really, I do need to get up now. I’ve still got to find shoes that I can easily return on Monday.”

“Or I could just buy you some? Or at least give you the money to buy them?”

She laughed again, her hands curling in his hair. “What are you, my sugar daddy?”

“More like your sugar-friend-with-benefits, sweetheart.” He wrinkled his nose. ‘Lover-who-enjoys-spoiling-you’ would be a better term, in all honesty, but he already knew that she didn’t want that. 

“That’s too long to say.” After thinking for a minute, she said, “Sugar-fren-ben for short, then?” 

“Who’s Ben?” Jay asked with a joking lilt heavy in his voice. 

A loud guffaw of laughter sounded beneath him. It shook into his body as he clung to her, reminding him that God, he was alive and she was alive and they were both so _happy_ in that moment. “ _Oh my God_.”

His pulse thrummed a steady beat of _love_ **_you_ ** _love_ **_you_ ** _love_ **_you_ **in his head and his ears and his neck and his hands and his chest. 

“Love-” he breathed, cutting off in panic of almost voicing the phrase that pumped blood through his body. 

He remembered the promise he made to himself the previous night—as much as he wanted to tell her, he was too fucking much of a coward to actually get all of the words out. He couldn’t do that to her, couldn’t force his emotions onto her like that. 

“Hmm?”

“Five more minutes, please? You’re so warm.” He shuddered against her, tightening his arms like she’d disappear if he left even the slightest bit of slack in his grip. 

“You’re warm too,” she conceded. “But, I’m also starving.”

He rested his chin on her chest so he could direct a smoldering look up at her. “I’m feeling ravenous as well, angel. Can you guess what for?”

“Jason.” Even though the way she said his name was riddled with disapproval, her thighs still shifted against his stomach. He bucked his hips up into her and watched with glee when those enchanting eyes of hers rolled back from the friction. “ _Fuck_.”

“Right now?” he asked cheekily. “So demanding.”

“You suck,” she groaned in exasperation. 

“Love, if you want me to, I can.” 

She covered her eyes with a hand, breathing out a puff of air. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“Yes, that’s my name,” he said. Teasing her was too much fun; the blush that so beautifully coated her skin was officially his favorite color. He leaned in closer to her chest. “You can scream it as loudly as you want to.”

She sighed. Beneath her hand, her face glowed red. “I’ll make a deal with you, okay?” Separating her middle and ring finger, he saw a sliver of her eye. 

He hummed. “Depends what that deal is, angel.”

“We stay in bed for five more minutes—and yes, I will be setting a timer for _exactly_ five minutes—if, and only if, you make me eggs while I shower.”

He pulled her hand away from her eyes. She was smiling again, and he could see the small dimple in her left cheek that he wanted to kiss. He pressed his lips on the inside of her wrist instead. 

“Okay.” He paused, pursing his lips. “Can I throw in a kiss for my end of the deal, too?”

She eyed him suspiciously; she stopped smiling, and that little dimple disappeared. Jason mourned the loss. “So long as it is _one_ kiss and doesn’t leave a mark, yes.”

“Set the alarm, then, love. I’m ready when you are,” he said. 

Shifting—one of her hands leaving his back, a presence that Jason sorely missed—she grabbed her phone. An instant later, that warm hand of hers curled into his hair. She breathed out a pleasant little sigh, her lips curved into a soft smile. 

“Where did you want to ki-”

Jason pecked her cheek, right where that little dimple winked at him a moment before. A dark blush blossomed over her face, though he didn’t have time to admire it, because he snuggled back into her chest. 

“Dork,” she chuckled. 

Her pulse bloomed into his temple, each special breath pouring in and out of her, rolling throughout him like a wave; Jason sighed contentedly as his own breathing and heartbeat matched up with hers. 

He didn’t want to fall asleep so as not to miss a single precious second pressed up against her. His tired eyes traced over her arms wrapped around him, dyed amber in the ribbons of light streaking over them. Breathing in deeply yielded the smell of lavender and the musk of her sweat—he wanted to smell that divine scent for the rest of his life. 

He shifted to look up at her and smiled into her chest when he met her gaze; she was already watching him, like she was his personal guardian angel. Jason didn’t doubt that particular idea in the slightest. 

In the quiet of the room, with only their mingling sighs and the sound of her heart in his ear, Jason never felt more loved in his entire life. Sure, she may not love him the way he loved her—romantically, passionately, with every fiber of his being—but she still _loved_ him. If he had to, even if it killed him every second of every day, he’d give her up just to keep whatever kind of affection she had for him. 

She deserved happiness, and Jason, well, Jason was good at making do with whatever he was given. If that was friendship, then he would; if that was a fuck-buddy system, then he would; if it meant giving her up completely, then he would. 

He breathed out, refusing to suck in her sweet fragrance again for a couple beats of her heart. All at once, Jason felt that he didn’t deserve to inhale her delightful scent or feel her body pressed up against his or have her hands tangled in his hair or even share the same fucking air as her. 

How did he ever think he had a chance? 

He couldn’t tell her that he loved her. _Ever_. Even if he had to stand by and watch her fall in love with someone else, even if she begged to know the truth, he couldn’t. She didn’t need the weight of feeling pity for him because of unreturned feelings on her shoulders. Jason didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but her? She was the entire universe. 

The alarm sounded, and he cursed. Not just because the time was over, but because he had been so wrapped up in his goddamn head that he hadn’t enjoyed what closeness she had permitted him. 

“A deal’s a deal, Jason,” she laughed. 

Fuck, maybe that was what hurt him the most—her complete and utter lack of awareness that he was falling apart because of his love for her. 

Jason pulled away. Immediately, the loss of warmth and steady beat threw him off balance; his body had lost contact with her, and, in the process, had forgotten how to even function without her touching it, guiding it, propelling it. He regretted thinking he could ever truly let her go without shattering completely. 

“How do you want your eggs, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice hoarse, even though he already knew the answer. His left hand gripped the hair on the nape of his neck—where she had so lovingly touched him, he realized with a drop in his stomach—as if to pull him away from her divinity. 

She stood up in front of him, stretching her hands into the air. Jason caught a sliver of her stomach from beneath his tee before he averted his eyes. “Scrambled, please.”

“Of course.” 

He left that godforsaken room like it was on fire. Jason needed to get his head under control. 

Jason knew it was unfair to both himself and to her for keeping his feelings a secret; getting some kind of emotional gratification from their little arrangement hadn’t been part of its specifications—in fact, romantic attachments were the exact _opposite_ of what she wanted—and in using it for that purpose, Jason knew he was using _her_ , too. 

He had lied to her, after all, and continued this entire thing because he was too selfish and too terrified to let her go. That wasn’t even considering the fact that he was completely disregarding her own feelings for his own personal gains. He cursed. _Jason was taking advantage of her_. 

Fuck, he was such a scumbag. 

And at the same time, he couldn’t just stop. He couldn’t stop making love to her just like he couldn’t stop _loving_ her; he didn’t want to tell her because if he did, Jason would lose her forever. She would hate him, she wouldn’t ever forgive him, she’d _leave_ him. The thought alone hollowed out his chest and joints—he might very well vomit out of sheer anxiety. 

He sincerely wished that whatever cosmic being looking over the world would just smite him for his sins already. 

When he got to the kitchen, however, a half-torn piece of paper taped to the fridge distracted him from the emotional panic currently swirling in his mind; that hadn’t been there the night before. 

Jason’s eyes scanned the scribbled handwriting with a sudden shock of excitement (followed closely by guilt at his enthusiasm): ‘ _Stopping by the hardware store, sleepyheads_.’ 

Still, cautiously, he called out, “Roy?”

No response. 

Roy was gone. _Roy was gone_. They had the entire apartment to themselves. It shouldn’t have excited him so much, to just be _alone_ with her, especially after the mental gymnastics he’d just put himself through; and yet, Jason could already picture her walking around naked around the apartment, throwing a saucy smirk over her shoulder as she beckoned him to just _take her already_ -

“Hey Jay,” she said, leaning out from around the corner. Only a towel covered her body—holy fuck, it just _wasn’t fair_ how easily she could disarm him like that. “Would it be too much of a hassle for you to add sautéed mushrooms into the eggs?”

“Not at all.” His voice was hoarse from want and hurt and love and fear. “Guess- guess what, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “What?”

“Roy’s out of the house right now. . . .” Fuck, he sounded hungry for her, which wasn’t exactly wrong, but it made him feel like shit all the same. He had meant to say it as a casual suggestion, sort of like ‘ _Hey, our other roommate is out right now—would you like to bend over the counter so I can fuck you?_ ’ and not something utterly pitiful. (Even though he knew his previous idea wasn’t exactly _not_ pitiful.)

“Don’t get any ideas, Jason,” she said with a smirk. “Just because Roy isn’t here doesn’t mean you get to fool around with me and make me late.”

“Too bad I’m a very inventive person.” He grinned despite the anxiety writhing in his gut. She just barked out a laugh before heading back down the hall. 

Jason turned back to the fridge, crumpling the note because it made him feel both horny and disgusted at his horniness. At least he could think about this hellish predicament he’d gotten himself into as he worked on making her eggs fit for a goddess like herself. 

As he lathered up the cast iron pan with olive oil, all he could think about was how goddamn selfish he was; as he cracked three eggs into a separate bowl, ideas of what a shitty friend he was raced through his head; as he cut up the mushrooms and half a shallot, Jason cursed himself to the ninth fucking circle of hell for being so stupid and taking advantage of her and being the worst, goddamn person in the entire world. 

He mixed the eggs with a fork, and then realized that she usually liked toast with her eggs. Jason cursed—how the hell could he give her what she deserved when he was too caught up in his own shit to remember basic things about her? 

Jason couldn’t. He wasn’t worthy of her, even if in the off chance that she was in love with him (which he knew she fucking _wasn’t_ ). 

All feeling left his body. He continued making her breakfast, sure, but he was miles away already; Jason was gone, swept under a dangerous riptide of thoughts, drowning in ideas of her and him and them and the impossibility of it all. 

How did he ever think he had a chance? How did he ever think he wouldn’t get hurt? How did he ever think _she_ wouldn’t get hurt? How did he think that everything would be okay and that he could just swallow up his feelings and that she wouldn’t see and that they’d be alright after all this and that he’d be able to let her go someday?

He was a fool. Not just that, but he was a fool for her. 

And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no to her even if it killed him, just like he knew he’d be the one who ended up crying at 3 a.m. when this arrangement of theirs inevitably ended up crashing and burning, just like he knew she’d hate him for using her to feel what some semblance of a relationship with her would feel like, just like he knew he’d be shattered when she finally let him go and when he’d finally have to face the fact that she _didn’t love him the way he loved her_. 

Would that stop him from so selfishly continuing to be with her like this? Hell no. Jason had always been self-destructive, but fuck, even now, he realized how much of a problem he had. 

“What’s that face for?”

Jason looked up to see her in his T-shirt and a pair of grey shorts. Her damp hair bled water into the cloth over her shoulders, and he could smell the clean scent of her soap and shampoo even from five feet away. He got lost in its lavender immediately. The tug of want and love in his chest startled him, even grounded him; the sting of self-hatred chased away any numbness still coating his sorry skin. 

She stepped closer, plucking the slices of toast that just popped from the toaster—amidst his thoughtful haze, he hadn’t even realized he’d brought the thing out and put bread in it. 

“Oh, nothing.” Shame burned hot in his body at lying, but he knew he’d feel even worse telling her the truth. 

“You sure?” she asked. Concern sparkled in her eyes—Jason felt even worse. He wasn’t worth that soft look on her face or the light step she took forward or the gentle curve of her lips; he wasn’t worth being her friend, let alone her lover. 

“Yeah. How was your shower?” he asked, trying to sound normal and not like he’d been wallowing in self pity for the past ten minutes. His voice was still thick, but at least she didn’t comment on it. 

“Really good,” she said before yawning. “I needed it.”

“That’s- that’s good. I’m glad,” he said while scraping the spatula through the half-cooked eggs. “Any ideas about what kind of shoes you’re gonna get?”

She hummed. “Well, heels, probably.”

“Not high-tops?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she snorted. “Three inches, and stiletto, too.”

Jason pictured her in nothing but heels; her fucking calves would look so amazing (not that they weren’t already amazing) and her ass, perked out in the air? He bit his bottom lip. Then he imagined her legs wrapped around his waist, her heeled feet digging into his lower back as he just _fucked_ her-

“You should get those shoes with the red bottoms, angel.” He shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, even if they were fuck-buddies. 

She audibly choked on the piece of toast hanging from her mouth. It just wasn’t fair that she could look so fucking cute when she sputtered our crumbs and pounded on her chest. “Jason, those are Christian Louboutin’s.”

“That’s their name?” He didn’t see the problem. 

“They’re _way_ out of my price range.”

“Like I said before, darling, I can buy them for you.”

“No,” she said. “Even if I wanted them, it’s a black and white gala. No color. I’m already pushing it a little with my dress.”

“Ooh, and what color should I look out for tonight?” Jason teased. On the outside, he was playfully nonchalant, whereas on the inside, he was losing his mind; she’d look so sexy in black, and she’d look like a bride in white—it was a win-win for him. 

“I don’t know if I should disclose that information.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke. 

“Oh? And why not?”

The saucy grin she flashed his way caused his heart to stutter. “I may not get any work done if you’re hounding me right away.”

“I prefer the term ‘courting,’” Jason said in an attempt to not appear like he was floundering from one little look from her. 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s still not happening.”

“How unfortunate,” he chuckled. “Looks like I’ll have to look over every woman at the gala just to make sure it isn’t you-”

“Black,” she bit out through clenched teeth. A jealous streak, huh? Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least but turned on by that. 

He pictured her glaring at some faceless woman getting just a little too close to him, before rescuing him from the unwanted attention; then Jason imagined her leading him somewhere less crowded and fucking him up against the wall. Fuck, she’d probably be handsy, and she might fucking suck his cock, and hell, what if she _marked him_?

He leaned against the counter with all of his weight, biting his lip at the thought. “Long or short?”

“You’ll see.”

“Not soon enough,” he grumbled. 

Carefully, she stepped over to him. “I take it you were the type of child to unwrap gifts before Christmas Day just to get a peek?”

“At first,” Jason frowned. “After year one, though, B caught on. Then he trained cameras on the tree.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed. Her soft hand caressed his face—he pressed his slightly open mouth against her wrist, drinking in her pulse. She gasped when he tugged her against him, still kissing her arm. “ _Jason_.”

“Yes, angel?”

“I can’t be late, seriously.”

He pulled away from her wrist, the hand not occupied with her waist moving to stroke her cheek. “I know.”

“Then-” she paused when he pressed his thumb over her lower lip, parting her mouth just slightly. He wanted to kiss her like he was in love with her—slowly, softly, sweetly, without a care in the world and like they were the only two people alive—even though he knew it would break them apart. “Jay, then why are you still playing this game?”

“Who said it’s a game?”

His heart jumped to his throat—he didn’t mean to expose himself like that, didn’t mean to open up his feelings to her so easily. She just furrowed her brow and twisted her mouth into something like a grin like Jason accidentally letting his love for her slip out wasn’t a big deal. 

He stepped back, ridding himself of all physical contact with her because what if she felt his pulse spike and what if she saw his pupils dilate and what if she saw how stupidly in love with her he was?

“Jason,” she said, and he couldn’t read what the hell she was thinking in her face. 

“Yeah?”

For a single second, a flicker of something like sadness distorted her face—in that same second, his lungs collapsed in on themselves—before she offered up a hesitant smile. “Always with the sweet talk, huh?”

He forced laughter in a hopeless attempt to salvage their friendship. “Of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, though she turned away before he could really analyze her peculiar facial expression. “It’s just a game.”

Something in his chest just _cracked_. “This- this is just a game,” Jason agreed. 

She turned back to him. Still smiling, though the quirked up edges of it were sharp and somehow bitter. Christ, she knew he loved her—she had to have by now. And this? This was just pity. Maybe even a little anger and sadness, too, because she’d asked _so little_ of him and yet he still managed to fuck everything up. 

“You’re such a flirt,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. 

‘ _I’m not,_ I’m not _, I swear—I just fucking love you with every fiber of my being. I want you, only you, forever you_ -’ “It’s one of my best qualities.”

She laughed, though it sounded the slightest bit hollow to Jason’s keen ears. “So you’re saying that being a womanizer is a _good_ quality?” 

“I’m not a womanizer, love,” he defended. Is that what she thought of him? Did she really think that he’d do this to any woman? Did she really not see how much he loved her? “I’m just- well, it’s like you said last night. I- I’m good with my mouth and all that.”

“Mhmm?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess that’s why we’re such good friends, then.” She said the word ‘friends’ strangely, like she didn’t think of them as such; his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of not even being considered her friend at this point.

All he could do was dumbly say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I’m also quite good with my mouth,” she said with a needled sort of grin. Hot lust spiked in his cock despite the self-hatred holding his entire fucking nervous system hostage. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Fuck, did he; it was purely sinful what she did with her mouth—how she wielded her tongue like a fucking weapon—how she could take his cock so well down her throat-

“You’re so unfair,” Jason frowned, feeling himself grow hard. 

Still wearing that guarded smile of hers, she said, “And yet you continue to kiss and fuck and cuddle with me.”

He rolled his eyes at her use of his words from the previous night. “Ha- _ha_.” 

She didn’t say anything to that; instead, she got touchy-feely. Like, _really_ touchy-feely. Jason knew she was trying to make a point with how obvious she was about it, too. 

When she went to grab something from the fridge, he felt one of her hands graze his ass; when she needed the butter, she leaned in close behind him, her fingers warm on his shoulder and her body pressed up against his; when she thanked him again for making her breakfast, her hot mouth brushed against his neck. Whenever he went to grab her, to stop her teasing, she danced away from him, her eyes and lips and body and _everything_ taunting him.

“Really?” he huffed out when she reached past him for the honey, her soft cheek brushing against his shoulder and her hand just barely touching the small of his back.

She stepped away as he went to capture her waist and worship her with his mouth. “What?”

“You’re teasing me.” Jason almost dared her to deny it. 

“And?” she chuckled, running the hand that had just stroked him so sweetly through her damp locks. “You tease me all the time.”

He shot her a dark glare, though it quickly fizzled away to an amorous stare when he looked at her. With her cheeks flushed, her pretty mouth curled into a grin, and her eyes glittering with mirth, Jason knew in an instant that she was worth breaking his heart up into a million pieces. 

She noticed him ogling her and grinned. Something in his gut tightened from a strange mixture of guilt and arousal. His pulse pounded from his throat to his cock, and when her eyes darted down and the corners of her mouth lifted just a little bit higher, Jason knew he was showing his excitement. 

All he could do was watch as she brought the container of honey up, far away from her tea mug. 

“Oops,” she said, dropping a bit of the sweet gold onto her shirt. Purposefully, might he add. 

Jason’s jaw clenched. Slowly, watching him the entire time like she didn’t have a care in the world, she dragged her index finger to collect it. Something in him broke—his self-control, he realized—and he stepped closer to her. He caught her hand before she could suck the sweetness off. 

He brought the finger to his lips, teasingly licking the tip of it. Its sugar shocked his tongue, but not as much as the tiny gasp that squeaked out from her. When he pushed the first knuckle’s length in, she bit her lip—which, if he was honest, was unfair because he wanted to do that too. How truly _unfortunate_ that his mouth was already occupied. 

Jason swirled his tongue over the tip of her finger. He sucked on it long after the taste was gone. She breathed out, “Jason.” 

In an instant, he moved his mouth down to the golden smear still left on her T-shirt, pressing his tongue up against the sugar there. She threw her head back. 

“Can’t be so careless, love,” he murmured against her clothed chest. He moved to where one of her perky nipples poked at the cotton, mouthing over the white fabric until it was near-translucent. When he saw the bud of it peeking out, he groaned. 

Her hands knotted in his hair—one of his legs moved between hers—as he pushed her back against the counter, he rubbed his thigh against her heat. 

“ _Jay_.” Christ, he never wanted her to stop saying his name. 

He stopped suckling at her breast for just a moment’s response. “Yes, love?” 

“What if, _fuck_ -” She cursed has his hand slipped under the back of her shorts and underwear, where it palmed at her bare ass roughly. The skin felt deliciously firm beneath his calloused hands—he wondered how biting it would feel. “What if Roy walks in?”

“So what if he does?” he asked. Skimming his lips up until he finally met the silken skin of her neck, Jason hummed. “Rest on my thigh, love. I’ve got you.”

He felt her full weight come down on his leg; she moaned and rutted against it. “Fuck, Jason, I- I’m serious.”

“And yet you’re also still riding my thigh to get yourself off,” he chuckled darkly. He moved his hands to her waist, both to support her and to grind her further down. Jason needed to see her release into bliss up close again. 

“Yes!” She hissed out at the new amount of friction. 

The little, stuttering thrusts of her heat against him were somehow simultaneously adorable and hot as fuck. She nearly clawed his shirt off, pushing it up until it bunched around his neck; the sting of her nails rippled over his shoulder blades— _She’s a scratcher_ , he remembered with glee—and he groaned. Those were battle scars he didn’t mind bearing in the slightest.

He breathed heavily over her neck. Jason wanted to kiss her throat until it was wine-dark, but knew if he did again, it’d be no sex for at least a week. The thought of that alone was more painful than restraining himself. 

She was close, Christ. He could feel it in the haphazard nudges against his thigh; they were shorter, harder, just to get her that little bit more over the edge; at the same time, the bottoms of her shorts dampened with each roll. He’d have to clean her with his mouth after she came. Not that he minded, of course. The idea of tasting her again excited Jason out of his fucking mind. 

Her breath puffed shortly and hotly against him, her hands dug into his skin; his name was the only word dripping from those lovely lips of hers. She was almost there, she was almost there-!

His ears perked at the click of the front door’s lock, and he cursed. Tugging his shirt down and picking her up, he raced to her room. 

“What’s-” she started. He hushed her, practically tossing her on the bed. 

“Roy.” They listened to his heavy footsteps out in the main area; for a trained professional, he sure wasn’t fucking stealthy. He stomped past her door—they waited, too scared to even exhale—before the click of his door down the hall sounded. 

She groaned when they were in the clear. “I was so fucking _close_.”

Oh, did he know it. Jason felt just as robbed as she did. When he saw her huffing on her bed, spots of the tee she wore see-through, hair all sex-mussed, cheeks rosy, he wanted to finish her, loudly, consequences be damned.

“So much for caring about if Roy sees, sweetheart,” he said. Jason ran a rough hand through his hair in order to prevent himself from jumping her. 

“Jason,” she warned like she wasn’t in the mood for his smartass comments. He grinned; she was on edge from almost cumming, and it was utterly adorable. Shifting her hips, she sought a pressure that wasn’t there anymore. 

“Want some help with that, angel?” he asked with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, looking like she wanted to say no out of spite—he loved that stubborn streak in her. Finally she sighed. “Just make me cum.”

“Ah-ah-ahh. What’s the magic word?”

Magic words, plural, actually, and they were ‘ _I love you_.’ But that would never happen in a million years, so ‘please’ would have to do instead. 

She puffed out her cheeks in annoyance—joke’s on her, though, because Jason thought she looked fucking adorable like that. He wanted to kiss each cheek about a dozen times (at the very minimum). 

“ _Please_ , Jason,” she murmured. 

His stomach dropped pleasantly at the sound. He’d expected her to bite back with some equally venomous comment, not to give in immediately. Jason’s eyes darted down to her grey shorts; there was a spot darkened with her sweetness right over her heat. 

_Fuck_. What on earth did he do to deserve this perfect torture? 

“Sweetheart,” he said, though the sound rumbled more from his throat than his lips. “How do you want it?” 

Balancing on her elbows, she looked up at him heatedly beneath those alluring eyelashes. “Eat me out?”

His cock ached at the shameless way she said it. He ground it into the bed when he imagined his mouth on her heat again. 

Jason could barely choke out a short “Of course,” as he leaned over her. His calloused hands trailed up her legs, marveling at both their smoothness and length. As much as he wanted to make her cum hard and fast, he wanted to savor the moment even more; that, and he knew that the soft touches would rile her up. 

It had taken a full minute to reach where she wanted him. During that time she had shuddered and huffed and wiggled her body, undoubtedly trying to both relieve the ache between her legs and to spur him to move faster. 

His tongue ran over his lips—he could smell her arousal. Jason pressed a chaste kiss over her clothed heat. In an instant, her legs wrapped tightly around his back, drawing him in. And she said he was the needy one? She was arching into his mouth while still fully dressed. Hell, she had begged him to take her not three minutes ago. 

Chuckling harshly, he said, “Love, I need to get you undressed first.” Still, he traced his tongue over the damp cloth, enjoying her ambrosial musk. 

“Stop teasing me,” she gasped. Her hands wound tightly in his hair and Jason hissed in pleasure. 

He looked up from between her legs. With her head thrown back, neck long and graceful, she was absolutely gorgeous. “I’ll stop teasing when you stop enjoying it so much.”

“You’re such a-!” she said, huffing and unable to finish the sentence. 

“A what, angel?” He brushed his nose against her heat. Christ, she was so sensitive right now—even the slightest pressure made her buck her hips and mewl. He loved it. “Use your words.”

She moaned. “An _ass_.”

“Well, my sweet,” he started, pecking her heat once more before pulling away completely. Lord, though, he had trouble with her strong legs pushing him in, in, _in_. She cursed at his absence of touch. “This _ass_ is about to give you an orgasm. But he needs you to loosen your _savage_ grip from around his neck so he can get your clothes off to actually do so.”

As excited as he was, he couldn’t help shame from jolting in his stomach. ‘My sweet,’ he’d said. ‘ _My_ sweet.’ She didn’t fucking belong to him; she probably wouldn’t even ever call herself his or himself hers, which meant he had _no right_ to use that pet name. 

“Fucker,” she breathed like she’d read his thoughts. Slowly, she unhooked her legs and straightened them out to either side. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss their presence. 

While he chuckled, she scowled down at him. “Oh, yeah, I am, love. I mean, what am I doing right now?”

“Talking and _not_ fucking me?” she replied wryly.

“Touché,” Jason snorted as he hooked his fingers around the band of her shorts. Mouthy in _and_ out of bed? He was in love, but of course, he was already well-acquainted with that not-so-small tidbit. 

With the same unhurriedness as he had approached her heat, he trailed the cloth down her legs. Her eyes spoke enough that she was unimpressed with his speed, but the way she trapped her plump lower lip beneath her teeth cued him in to the fact that she was secretly enjoying this. To shock her, he snapped them off her feet suddenly, tossing the fabric to the ground somewhere behind him; a delicate gasp rewarded his efforts. 

His hand curled around her left heel. Barely touching the skin, he dragged his fingertips up her calf—on the back of her knee, he drew a heart (and prayed she didn’t feel it as such)—Jason substituted his fingers for his lips on her thighs and placed kisses softer than butterfly wings closer and closer to where she needed him most. 

He tugged down her panties with his teeth, loving the way she gasped and wriggled beneath him. This time he couldn’t bear going slow himself; he was just as eager as she was. When they were around and then off her ankles, he admired their glossy wet spot. 

“Mind if I have a taste?” he asked lowly. 

She licked her lips and shook her head. Running a languid stroke of his tongue over the spot, he closed his eyes. Fuck, he’d missed her sweetness. Jason hadn’t realized it, but he’d been craving it every day since he’d last tasted it. 

When he opened his eyes, hers were already trained on his face, and _Christ_ , she was touching herself to him. A groan ripped through him as he watched—her lovely fingers, _glistening_ in her own arousal, tracing softly over her outer lips. He’d never seen her look so goddamn beautiful. He wanted to see her like this every fucking day for the rest of his life: desperate and yet undeniably divine. 

“Jason,” she breathed as she traced over her clit. Her eyes rolled back before disappearing beneath her silky lids. Fire raced through him because he wasn’t even fucking _touching_ her and she was still moaning his name. 

He dared to wonder if she’d touched herself to him before and bit the inside of his cheek at that truly tantalizing thought. 

Resting his knees on the edge of the mattress, Jason leaned forward with her panties still in his mouth. He made a mental note to suck her fingers and her heat to get every last drop (and maybe even the blanket beneath her and her discarded shorts when she was at the Manor). He wouldn’t let an ounce of her nectar get wasted; he _needed_ to taste everything she had to offer, perhaps more than he’d needed anything else in his life. 

“Love, I’m keeping these until we meet again tonight.” He pocketed them before she could say anything. “For now, stop touching yourself. That’s my job.”

Her eyes lazily opened, and, with a coy smile and raised eyebrow, she plunged a finger into her wetness. Jason’s hands found the covers and gripped them hard. _Fuck_ , that was sexy. He didn’t even care if it wasn’t his finger (or his tongue) or if she had blatantly disregarded his words. 

“Oh,” she said with a sinful drip to her voice. “Are you ready to fuck me now? Or are you going to keep on taking your sweet time, _love_?”

Jason didn’t answer—how could he when his cock strained hard against his pants and when he already knew any word out of his mouth would be utterly incoherent? 

He gulped, grabbing her hand to stop it from thrusting into her delicious heat, even though he could have watched her make herself cum like that, spellbound, for the rest of the day. Slowly, he pulled it out. He needed needed _needed_ to fucking taste her more or he swore he’d go insane. 

When he sucked on her finger, there wasn’t any hesitation or teasing. His teeth scraped along her knuckles as he teased every last atom of her sweetness out of her skin. 

“Can’t let that go to waste,” he murmured. She sharply took in a breath, her cheeks wonderfully dyed with red. “Now let’s see, what do you need, angel?”

“You’re mouth, preferably on my pussy.” Fuck, she was still so blunt. He loved how forward she was; it drove him fucking crazy with the need to please her. 

His voice was deep with lust when he finally answered. “Your wish is my command.”

Jason settled between her gorgeous thighs (she said she was jealous of his, but hers were fucking heavenly) and wasted no time getting to work. 

He started first with a teasing lick up her slit, the tip of his tongue collected all of the sweetness that seeped out. She nudged into him, still sensitive from both almost cumming and touching herself before; her ankles crossed over his shoulder blades, holding him hostage against her heat (not that he minded in the slightest). 

Without another thought, he dipped his tongue into her warm, wet folds. She reacted instantly: her hands knotted in his hair to push him further in, her body curved against his mouth, her mouth opened wide in a silent scream. Looking up at her while she was lost in the feeling of pleasure even though she hadn’t even found release yet, Jason was reminded for the umpteenth time that morning that he loved her, and that he wouldn’t ever _stop_ loving her. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she finally bit out. He wondered if she could read his mind for such a well-timed exclamation. 

Jason hummed, pulling his tongue out despite her walls tugging him in. He mouthed over her outer lips. As lovely as tonguing her to completion sounded, he wanted to suck on her clitoris first. 

When he reached the sensitive bud, her fingernails bit into his scalp. “Fuck- _Jason_ , please.”

Who was he to deny her? Lightly, he swirled the tip of his tongue around it, her slick tasting fucking divine. Jason came to the conclusion that he wanted to eat her out every single fucking day, just so he could hear her heated moans and savor her taste. 

He wrapped his lips around the bud, making sure his tongue still teased the top of it as he sucked. She rutted against him, his name dripping from her mouth amidst lewd whimpers. 

Jason looked up at her while he worked—he probably could have cum to the soft moans falling from her bruised lips and the way her chest rose sporadically beneath the fabric of his shirt. He made a mental note to fuck her while she wore nothing but one of his T-shirts, if not that day then some other—Jason imagined her bent over the kitchen counter, showing her firm ass just beneath the hem of the shirt, legs spread and ready to receive him. _Hell_. The thought alone made him grind into the bed.

He must have also sucked harder than he meant to at the idea because she cried out, “ _Jason!_ ”

“Shhh, love,” he said, separating himself from her body despite the fact that it physically pained him to do so. “We don’t want Roy to hear.”

She gasped at the lack of contact. “ _Shit_ \- fuck, I’m sorry.”

Even though he had cleared everything up with Roy and even though he knew she wanted to keep this entire thing a secret, Jason still _really_ wanted Roy to hear. That damn possessiveness of his came back (Jason doubted it had ever really left, in all honesty) and he wanted her to scream his fucking name to the heavens. 

He plunged his index and middle finger into her at the thought, pumping roughly into her heat. Jason needed to see her come undone just like he needed fucking oxygen. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hissed. Her impatient hands tugged at his hair. 

Jason melded his mouth to her clit once more, drinking in her sweetness along with the shudder that echoed throughout her body. He curled his fingers inside of her to hear her moan again. It was contained this time—Jason both understood and detested the reason for the muted mewl—but sent hot want trembling down his body nonetheless. 

Everything about her tugged him in, from her legs locked around him to her hands keeping his head firmly rooted over her clit to her heat sucking his fingers in. Small, precious whimpers, mostly of his name but also of low expletives that drove him wild, flitted from her mouth; paired with the erotic, wet noises of both his tongue and his fingers over her core, Jason was sure there was never a more perfect symphony heard. 

If possible, her grip tightened on him. Her entire body arched, pushing her heat further into his mouth and her head into the soft pillows behind it. Jason grinned as he flicked his tongue over her swollen, flushed bud; _she was close_. 

At the last second, he pulled his mouth and hand away. Wind her up, just a little more, bit by bit. He wanted her to come undone as fucking hard as she could. 

“ _Jason_ ,” she bit out. Her hands gripped in his hair as if to entice him to continue and her strong legs pushed him against her body. “Jason, make me cum, I mean it.”

He licked up her slit with as little contact as possible. She squirmed, bucking her hips just to seek out that littlest bit of extra pressure. He repeated the action over her outer lips, loving how she groaned and cursed him out, begging for relief. 

“Do you?” Jason asked with a grin. Pressing the pad of his thumb against her clit, she rolled into him, trying to get herself off. 

“Yes!” she whimpered. “More, God, _please_.”

“How much more, sweetheart?” He took his thumb away, leaning in closer to start kissing her lower lips. 

“ _Christ_ , all of you.”

“Oh?” Jason mouthed more pressure over her heat, just barely dipping his tongue into her slick folds. Her taste, her grip, her fucking moans made him want to _devour_ her. He thrust his hips into the mattress at the thought, trying to temper his white-hot desires. He needed to work her up, just a little more, before he could indulge himself.

Licking with broad strokes of his tongue over her outer lips, Jason moved up to her swollen clit. The little rosebud glistened from the perfect mixture of her wetness and his own saliva. Kissing it lightly, he greedily lapped up the nectar still there. He moaned, making sure she felt the satisfied hum on the sensitive nub, and the way she kicked her leg up in the air was evidence enough that she enjoyed it. 

She bowed into him, hungry for more friction. “Jay- _fuck_ \- Jason.”

“Angel,” he said, so close to her that each movement of his lips trembled over her heat. “Tell me, do you want to cum around my fingers or around my tongue?”

“ _Tongue_ ,” she breathed.

 _Good choice_ , he almost fucking murmured out loud. 

Instead, Jason plunged his tongue into her heat, drinking in her tangy sweetness and the gasp that trembled from her throat all the way to her core. His thumb found her clit once more, teasing soft circles around it as she pressed into him. 

Her velvety walls were coated in her nectar—Jason pushed his hips into her mattress again, seeking to relieve some of the pressure building in his cock. He doubted he’d ever been this turned on before; tongue-fucking her in the morning while she still wore his shirt was as close to heaven as he’d ever get, and he was more than okay with that. 

He kissed her harder, thumbing more frantically over her swollen nub. Jason needed her to cum, needed her to release, needed her to come undone. He couldn’t give her everything she deserved—he was fucking well aware of that—but he could at the very least give her the slice of paradise that she gave him. 

She was _so close_ ; her thighs trembled around him, her breaths staggered and erratic. She murmured his name like a prayer in the dark—Jason could have cum to those soft near-exaltations alone—her swollen lips moving nearly silently. Her hands clawed at him, trying to get more, trying to get that much closer to relief; she moved in waves, flowing into him as he tasted her deep. 

All at once, that desperate grinding came to a halt. Her body curled into him, completely, her walls tightening and pulling at his tongue. She gasped, his name a shallow breath on her lips—she had to be an angel to say his name so softly and so prettily like that as she came. 

He lapped up her sweetness long after she released, both trying to selfishly hoard every drop of his for himself while also to clean her up. He’d never be able to get enough. Even as he pulled away, Jason licked his lips, seeking every ounce of ambrosia she had to offer him. He wasn’t even the slightest bit ashamed to admit that he sucked his fingers as he watched her recover. 

“Better?” he asked, affording to show the barest hint of his love through a soft smile. 

She could only nod, and pride may or may not have swelled in his chest at that. 

Coming down from her high, Jason watched with glee as her chest rose and fell beneath his T-shirt. He shifted off of the bed, his hand skimming up her thigh, then her hip, then over her clothed breast. Jason couldn’t stop himself from pecking her forehead.

Adoration swelled in his chest for the dark color of her cheeks and soft ‘o’ of her mouth. She was perfect—if not for anyone else, then she was perfect _for him_. Too bad he wasn’t perfect for her.

“What- _fuck_ \- what time is it?” she gasped. 

Jason hummed, brushing a few of the wild curly cues away from her forehead. Sweat glistened over her brow, and Jason wanted to lick each bead off of her skin. “‘Bout a quarter to eleven.”

“You’ve got fifteen minutes then,” she said with a grin, her eyes hooded and glinting in the honeyed light of the room. He loved her, _he loved her_ ; it was somehow both perfect and terrible. “Unless you have other plans?”

Jason grinned despite the internal panic. “Not at all, angel.”


	7. Gallanting at Galas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo this was an oof to write. I apologize for the very late update—between finals, a phat research paper, and moving, shit’s been a wee bit crazy. May was essentially one long, hard sucker punch to the face. However, I am hoping to update more frequently now that it’s summer and I only have work shifts to worry about now. Without further ado, this is chapter 7, with some sexy times, a shit ton of angst, and well, more miscommunication. I hope you folks enjoy!

The night had been boring, to say the least. Three hours in and nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Still, she was on edge. 

Not because she expected something dastardly or villainous to happen—they only had a few of Arkham’s resident patients to worry about, all of whom were last reported outside of the city, and Bruce had stated that this was more of an intel operation, meaning that force was not expected. No, she was on edge because she hadn’t caught sight of Jason anywhere. 

She’d been keeping a careful eye over each of the guests, both because that was what was expected of her, but also so that Jason couldn’t sneak up on her; two birds, one stone, and all that. And while she had seen the two relatively suspicious characters, both of whom she’d pointed out to the other security guards—middle-aged men who wore wrinkled suits and hadn’t been on the guest list—she had yet to catch sight of the man who had plagued her thoughts for ages. 

It wasn’t just that she couldn’t _see_ him, either; she didn’t feel any lingering gaze on her, meaning he probably wasn’t there at the moment (unless he was busy hooking up with someone else, but she tried not to let that terrible thought sour her stomach or her mind too much). She was alone, or, well, as alone as she could be in a room filled with Gotham’s richest. 

A part of her wondered if he told her he’d come just to play with her—it wasn’t like she’d been inconspicuous with her feelings toward him despite desperately trying to be. Maybe he found it funny that she loved him so much, or maybe he found it pitiful, and wanted to mess around with her to discourage her.

Jason wouldn’t do that though, would he? She didn’t know if he would, didn’t know if she _wanted_ to know. It was killing her. 

She just wanted to see him. He’d wound her up with all of that earlier sweet talk (and sex) and now she was ready to hold him to his word; as she’d rushed out of the door, he’d whispered promises to pin her up against some wall and kiss every inch of her skin. Those hushed words stirred up a heat within her that hadn’t been smothered in the slightest by the passing hours. It was as if he had branded his mouth to her—she felt the ghosts of his rough palms tracing over her waist, his hot breath on her neck, before trailing lower and lower and lower to where she needed him most-

She sighed, knowing she probably wouldn’t get that lucky even though they had this little benefits situation going on. It became obvious to her, in that moment; Jason had been playing with her and wouldn’t show. 

It made sense; the gala was fitted with decent enough security, and even though Jason was suspiciously good at breaking into things, she doubted he’d risk coming to a public event with Bruce. It was a safe, but disappointing, thought. 

Smoothing the silk of her dress, she tried to ignore the faint glint of color from the lights; of course Steph would choose something on the flashier side that didn’t exactly help her blend in all that well. While it was black, in the bright light of the ballroom, it glimmered undertones of a purplish red like crow’s feathers. Bruce had raised an eyebrow at the choice like it had been her decision (even though _he_ was the one who trusted _Steph_ to pick out an appropriate dress) but hadn’t said anything else. 

It was all too much. She’d so much rather be at home, snuggled up on the couch with Jason, watching some shitty movie while wearing sweats, instead of at some stupid party filled to the brim with rich assholes. Even if she was dolled up and putting forward a front of a lesser-known heiress, she still felt out of place. 

_No, none of that_ , she chastised herself. Going back to her age-old mantra of ‘ _What Would Selina Do?_ ’ she straightened her posture. Her shoulders had hunched and her head had dipped down when previously drowning in self-criticism. This wasn’t the time to tense. She needed to appear confident and in control, like she didn’t have three dollars to her name and instead could afford a small wartime fleet of yachts. 

She stole a delicate flute of champagne from a nearby waiter. It certainly wasn’t her drink of choice, in all honesty—whiskey or scotch was more of her go-to—but she both couldn’t afford to get shitfaced on the job and couldn’t blow her cover. She doubted any other high class ladies at this particular gathering would pound glass after glass of whiskey, neat. The bubbly, vaguely sour drink currently in her hands would have to be enough. 

She brought the glass up to her lips. As discreetly as possible, she scanned the crowd again while she sipped the beverage. Disruptions could still happen at any time, and she’d be damned if it happened on her watch (mainly because then she probably wouldn’t get paid). 

Her eyes spotted a flash of crimson, and something deep inside her knew that only one person would be so much of a flagrant (but lovable) asshole to wear color to a specifically black and white gala. _Jason Peter fucking Todd_. Something in her chest tightened and twisted, both pleasantly and painfully. 

Her eyes caught on his broad-shouldered figure. She choked a little when she swallowed because hell, he looked fucking _sexy_ in a tux. Everything was tailored to perfection, from his immaculate trousers to his tight, black tuxedo jacket. And there, beside his left lapel, was the blood red pocket square that drew her gaze to him in the first place. 

While it wasn’t as bad as, say, wearing a bright crimson dress shirt, it was still very obviously in violation of the dress code. How he managed to sneak in was beyond her. She had half a mind to just go over and tell him off for being so obvious, especially when he did little to hide or disguise his face (even that stupid mustache he wore that one time would be better than going fucking clean-shaven to a gala in which high class citizens, most of whom had met him as a child before he had died, roamed aimlessly). 

Jason was already looking at her, though. He seemed to be laughing at the way her face twisted up with disbelief, and he winked at her from about eight meters away. 

Her head replayed their earlier conversation:

‘ _It’s just a game_ ,’ she said, beating him to it because if he said it first she might’ve died from heartbreak right there. 

And then he’d agreed. ‘ _This- this is just a game_.’

Despite the persistent feeling of happiness that bloomed in her chest when she first saw him (along with maybe some anger from his brashness), her stomach shrunk. Right. This was all just a game between them, and she would do well to remember that painful fact. 

So, what else to do besides school her face into one of mock seduction—hooded eyes, raised eyebrows, and a little pouty sort of smile that looked more like a smirk than anything—in order to play along? Tonight, she was going to pull a fucking Selina Kyle harder than she ever had before; even if she didn’t have Jason’s heart, she’d at least make him happy by playing along. 

That meant first, she had to give him something to chase after. Luckily, she was good at running away. 

She stepped carefully around a waiter holding a silver platter of hors-d'oeuvres. Her sights were set on a loose circle of people near the center stage of the great hall. Every step she took was calculated, her hips swinging and her heels registering only as soft _clicks_ against the marble floors. 

A woman with her hair pulled into a sleek, jet black bun, was heading the conversation. Willowy, though with broad shoulders, she wore a white, matte, off the shoulder dress. She recognized the woman’s face: one of Luthor’s underlings, undoubtedly attending the gala in his stead to get valuable information from Gotham’s richest socialites. 

While Jason was known in the underworld community, much like the lesser villainous groups that Lex employed to do his dirtiest work, he wasn’t exactly well-liked by them. If he were to follow her into the group, he and the woman—Melina, right, that was her first name—would undoubtedly butt heads. 

Sure enough, when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Jason brooding off to her right, his eyes on her at all times. He still wore an amused smile, like this game of theirs wasn’t serious in the slightest, and like he would win it no matter what she did to thwart him; at the same time, there was a dark look in his eyes that almost dared her to continue with this little game of theirs. 

She was going to give him _hell_. 

With a flippant roll of her eyes in his direction, she turned back to the conversation. She was only half-listening; talk of a new space program to tap into Saturn’s asteroid belt was discussed, along with plans to explore more of the world’s oceans for meteorites heavy-laden with precious ores—Luthor must’ve been low on Kryptonite to look into such low-payoff projects. 

She didn’t look back for him once during the twelve minutes she stood in the outer fringes of the circle. Once, Melina had turned to her with a smile on her face that screamed ‘ _I will take every penny from you_.’ She had to wonder how no one else saw through her act. 

Checks made up of large sums were promised; half-assed comments about how ‘modern day exploration has been stifled by the economy’ and ‘whatever happened to the good old days of _discovery_ ’ were muttered. All of it was jargon, bullshit said just for show. There was no need for her to stay any longer when the conversation was over. 

With a polite goodbye, she practically danced away from the group of Lex Corps. associates. 

While she maintained perfect posture and a swift but smooth gait, her mind was in a frenzy. Jason was undoubtedly trailing behind her the way a lion stalks its prey, playing with it at first before going in for the kill. The thought was exciting, but she also had her pride to maintain. 

She meandered in and out of the throngs of rich folk, occasionally looking over her shoulder. Each time she did, Jason, with his stupid red pocket square and his even stupider attractive smile, was several paces behind her. Always in the corner of her eye, always at the edge of her sight. Slinking like an unbothered stray, he made it seem like it was purely chance that they were headed in the same direction, not that he was chasing her. 

She kept her head high. The same placid air of haughtiness she’d worn protectively all throughout the night still coated her face; like hell she’d give him what he wanted without a fight. 

The next group of rich folk she meandered to were all twice her age, easily. All women, dripping in large, gaudy jewels. When she approached, she saw their eyes look over her, estimating the price of everything she wore; their faces twisted into a snobbish conceit as they determined that price to not be much in the slightest. Knowing this would be a painful conversation (though a necessary one), she nabbed another flute of champagne from a nearby waiter. 

“My sweet Simon got these for me from Mexico,” one woman said. “And only for eight.”

“Thousand?” she asked, sipping from the glass and trying to sound interested. 

“Million.”

She almost choked. Eight-fucking-million dollars for diamonds that were as clunky as a first grade art project. What the fuck? These goddamn rich people. She glanced back at where Jason was standing, some ten feet away, as if to say ‘ _Are you hearing this shit?_ ’ Sure, she was supposed to be suave and attractive and sexy and all that, but hell, eight million dollars? She could barely afford ramen from the bodega down the street. 

He raised an eyebrow (rather sexily, might she add) as if to entice her to ditch the old crones to spend time with him instead. Not yet, not yet. She had to make him work for it— _i_ _t_ , in this case, was breaking her heart.

 _Don’t think about that right now_ , she chastised herself. _Have some fun, enjoy the moment; there’s no need for you to worry about the future_. 

“Wow,” she said in the most polite voice she could manage. “They’re beautiful.”

That was all she really could say in this situation; she couldn’t very well brag about her own jewelry to fit in—she wasn’t even _wearing_ any—just like she couldn’t shout ‘ _That’s a fucking ridiculous amount of money to pay for a pair of goddamn earrings!_ ’ because it would get her kicked out immediately. So, polite middle ground it was. God, what she wouldn’t give to have Jason’s mouth on her neck right about now. 

She gulped. That was a dangerous thought. Once again, she sought out Jason with a discreet peek over her shoulder. Almost like he could read her mind, he flashed a dangerous smirk. She imagined him smiling like that from between her legs in some dark corridor. 

Unconsciously, she grit her jaw. It wasn’t out of anger so much as it was pure want. She needed to get out of there before she lost. Thankfully, the conversation had moved somewhat away from her, meaning she could slip out before she heard another fucking comment what karat gold every woman was wearing. 

A quick glance around the dancing hall yielded little relief. There weren’t any other groups of people she could easily infiltrate, seeing as she was an unknown face. Stranded. . . she was stranded. And without any hope of a life preserver. 

Fuck. She was fucked, and not in the good way. _Yet_. 

Warm fingers skimmed lightly up her back, their touch somehow both intimate and chaste at the same time. Jason’s hot mouth grazed her ear. “Hey, stranger.”

She tensed from anticipation, but brushed it off with an easy laugh. Just because he had caught her (temporarily) did not mean she had to roll over and show her stomach just yet. “Dick? I didn’t realize you’d be able to make it so soon?” 

“Oh, sweetheart, I cannot believe you just said that,” Jason growled. It was playful and dangerous all at the same time—a shudder trembled over her. 

She didn’t answer, instead scanning her surroundings once more. The longer she stayed by Jason, the sooner she’d have her legs wrapped around him, and while that wasn’t exactly bad, she wanted _him_ to be the begging mess tonight. 

She (finally) spotted a familiar woman dressed in all black and swatted away his hands. A second later, she felt the ghost of his touch try to capture her once more, but she was already well on her way. She didn’t even spare him a glance back for fear of falling prey to his hypnotizing blue eyes; instead, she strolled right up to the woman who was responsible for everything good and bad in her life: Selina goddamn Kyle. 

She was her saving grace. For one, Bruce wasn’t anywhere near her—she suspected he was doing intel of his own by mingling with the guests—which meant that if Jason did happen to come over, there wouldn’t be any sort of altercation. She also knew that the chance of Jason pursuing her to one of Bruce’s close associates (er, ladylove) was unlikely. That just meant she could rile him up that much more. Likewise, seeing as Selina was the godforsaken woman who had technically started this whole dumpster fire, it was fitting that she’d help her conquest. 

“Selina,” she greeted with what she hoped was a sure smile (it was rather difficult given how turned on and on edge she felt). “It’s been ages, how are you?”

The pale green of Selina’s eyes bore straight into her. “I’m well. And you?”

She felt Jason’s stare on the back of her neck, almost begging her to turn around and drag him to some secluded coat closet and just take him there. _But_ , she reminded herself, _You are a woman on a mission and will be damned if you cave first_. 

“Great,” she said. Something between giddiness and anxiety muddled up the single word. Selina’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly.

“Coming to me for more advice?” A knowing and wry lilt lightened the question. She almost burst out laughing; while following the cat’s previous advice might have yielded some benefits (mind-blowing sex, for one), it had also quite possibly ruined her heart forever. 

Instead of laughing, she swallowed, her throat feeling dry. “No, no. I just wanted to talk.”

“Hm,” Selina murmured. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Oh, she hated how much that answer wavered from her mouth. 

There was a bit of an awkward pause between them—talking with Selina had always been infinitely easier when they were hiding behind masks, on a secluded rooftop somewhere. But at the gala? With several witnesses around to hear them curse or listen in on their usually-raunchy small talk? It was- well, it was mortifying. Also a bit of a no-go. 

Selina noticed her stiffness. “How about we get you something to drink?”

“That’s a great idea, thanks.” She swallowed, not realizing how dry her throat had been. 

As they made their way over to one of the waiters, she noticed how Selina’s eyes kept glancing at her, or rather, _through_ her. Jason. Oh boy, he was undoubtedly following them. 

“Did you know that you seem to have a tail?” Selina asked with a suggestive smile. Her pale green eyes flicked over her shoulder. 

Her hunch was correct; when she turned and saw Jason, his gaze was directed right at her. He sipped from a flute of champagne, holding the stem of the glass delicately in his hands. From what she could see, his eyebrows were quirked up slightly and the corners of his mouth curled, still amused at this little game of cat and mouse. 

“I’m aware. I may or may not have followed your previous suggestions,” she managed to say. _Don’t get horny don’t get horny don’t get_ -

“Oh? And how did it go?”

‘ _Well, considering I’m having the best sex of my life each night, I’d say pretty good_ ,’ she wanted to say. She also wanted to say, ‘ _Aside from the crippling self doubt and pain I feel every second of every day, it’s going great._ ’ Yeah, neither of those were good options. 

“It’s definitely given me some. . . information.” She tore her gaze away from Jason’s, smiling slightly.

“What kind of information?”

“That, well, that there might be something there. _Hopefully_. I’m still- I’m still gathering data.” More like she was prolonging her own torture by holding out for a fucking miracle. But Selina didn’t need to know that. 

“Still? Well, maybe I could help you out with that.” _There_ was that coquettish glint in Selina’s eyes, the one that made her stomach churn with foreboding. Whenever Selina wore that look, trouble was soon to follow. 

Damn her; curiosity killed the cat, and this time, Selina wasn’t the feline in question. She couldn’t help but ask, “How so?” 

Selina smirked and looped their arms. “I know that Bruce asked you here to keep an eye out, but a girl’s got to have some fun. I say you should enjoy yourself.”

She didn’t completely trust the mischievous lilt in her voice. “What kind of fun?”

“Well,” Selina started, her darkly-colored lips pulling wider. How could she be so pretty even when she was scheming? “There are several gentlemen who I think would love to dance with you.”

“You’re talking about making him jealous?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. She doubted that Jason could even get jealous; well, not over her at the very least. While he would never admit it, sometimes Jason got snappy whenever Bruce complimented one of the other former Robins too excessively. 

Selina tilted her head innocently. “Don’t you think that’d be interesting to see?”

She licked her lips. On one hand, a jealous Jason sounded sexy as hell (pushing her up against a wall in some dim hallway, leaning over her before placing scalding kisses all over her body? _Yes, please_ ); on the other hand, she knew that playing with his feelings (if he had feelings for her, that is) was wrong. “I think I need to focus on my job here, Selina. Thank you, though.”

Selina seemed to find this response interesting. “I still may send some boys your way.”

“ _Selina_ ,” she warned. 

“That man over there has been staring at you for the past four minutes,” Selina said, gesturing to a blond fellow in a white suit. He looked her age, maybe a little older, but also like a total rich, pompous bastard. She vaguely remembered his name to be Jeremiah something-or-other. “You’ve also got him, over there.” She discreetly pointed to a man in his late thirties with brown hair. That was someone she _did_ know: William Kingsbury, from England but in the United States for business. 

She laughed, rolling her eyes at the absurdity. “Selina, the first guy is daddy’s trust fund baby and the second is fifteen years older than me.” 

“So?”

“ _So_ , they’re not my type. And even if they were, I wouldn’t dance with them to make him jealous.”

“And yet,” Selina smiled, looking over her shoulder once more, back in the direction where they last saw Jason. “Just by looking at them, you’ve already made Little Red over there bubble over with envy.”

When she turned, she saw Jason downing the rest of his champagne in one swig. His eyes flashed as he set the empty glass down on some table, and he took strong strides in her direction. He continued looking at her, _only her_ , like they were the only two people in the entire room. Christ, she felt her core flutter with need at the smoldering eye contact alone. 

She dared herself to hope, to pray, to wish that maybe, just maybe, by God’s divine will, he might love her back. 

“Excuse me, Miss,” a tenor male voice said from behind her. She spun around—Trust Fund Baby stood in front of her, slouching slightly and not at all subtle with the way he eyed her body. “Would you like to dance?”

Christ, where was Jason when she needed him? She started turning back in his direction with a polite excuse on the tip of her tongue, but Selina laughed a sultry little chuckle and answered for her. “Oh, she’d _love_ to.”

“Selina-!” she said, but the other woman had already taken her drink and Trust Fund Baby had already taken her hand, dragging her to the center of the dance floor. 

She wanted to yell at this narcissistic prick ‘ _Hey, stop interfering; I’m trying to get dicked down tonight!_ ’ Instead she just smiled softly like she actually enjoyed the fucker’s presence. 

“You don’t mind a waltz, do you? I’ll lead,” he said, without even waiting for her response. _Great_ , yet another rich asshole with no manners who loved to talk over other people. Fucking _fantastic_. Just what she wanted to deal with at the moment. 

She looked over Blondie’s shoulder to glare at the damned kleptomaniac who got her into this fucking mess. The look on Selina’s face was something like ‘ _My little girl is all grown up_.’ If this wasn’t a high class function and if Bruce wouldn’t place her under house arrest for a month, she would have flipped her off and suplexed the guy to kingdom come. 

Alas, she had to keep up appearances; for once, she couldn’t be the vigilante who enjoyed utterly _wrecking_ any opponent, and, instead, she had to play the part of the innocent young lady who didn’t mind a rich sleazeball’s company. What fresh hell. 

She cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder to where Jason stood, rigid, ten paces away. Frustration twisted his face into a (very attractive) glower; his visage and his neck were pink with rage. His hands raked through his hair as he watched Trust Fund Baby spin her around to the orchestral music echoing throughout the hall. When they finally fell back to his sides, she saw them clench and move to his hip, reaching for the guns that weren’t there at the moment. 

Blondie whirled her around so that her back was to Jason once more. It was a shame, really, because she could have watched his face shift from one sexy shade of anger to the next. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Selina had a point about pressing his buttons being fun. 

She didn’t see him again until Mr. Daddy Issues placed a hand on her lower back, during which she hid a bristle relatively well—Jason’s mouth crushed into a thin line and he tugged ferociously at his collar like it was choking him, his eyes never once leaving Trust Fund Baby’s face. Oh hell, she knew that look: Jason already had the murder planned out, right down to where he’d hide the body. 

If she were honest, she’d probably help him. Getting groped by some affluent dickhead was not in her plans for the night. Had it been Jason’s hands on her back and in her own, if his fingers had been the ones sliding lower and lower, she wouldn’t have minded all that much. But this fucker? He was as good as dead to her. 

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning,” he said. This bourgeoisie asshat didn’t even know it’d be his funeral in a week; that alone made dancing with him just the slightest bit bearable at the moment. Still, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. 

She smiled at him sweetly, but in her head, she’d already kicked him in the groin seven times. “Then why aren’t you stunned yet?”

He blinked like he’d been slapped. Fuck, if only. His grip slackened on her back and in her hands for just a moment, but then the fucker recovered his massive ego. He coughed, before saying, “I was certainly stunned when I first saw you walk in. That dress is quite the show-stopper.”

They spun around, his hand dipping lower with each step. The good news? He was no longer touching the bare skin of her back. The bad news? He was beginning to encroach on _very_ inappropriate regions of her body. 

“Unfortunately, this show was not _stopped_ upon my entry,” she murmured, maintaining a demure front even though her words were biting. Treading the fine line between respectful and closed-off was difficult, but she managed it. 

“Oh? But then we would have never met, Miss. . . ?” Blondie started again, his dark eyes lingering on her cleavage. 

If only they _had_ , in fact, never met. God, a girl could dream. 

“Anonymous,” she said with a coy smile. Like hell she wanted this bastard to know her name. 

He raised his perfectly manicured eyebrows—how the hell did he have better eyebrows than her? Oh, right, _money_ —but wasn’t deterred (sadly). “Should I call you Cinderella, then?” 

“Sure.” The hand placed limply on his shoulder waved dismissively. She fought rolling her eyes, instead flashing what she hoped was a dazzling smile so as to not seem rude. 

With the newest revolution around the room, she could look at Jason once again. His eyebrows were furrowed, a dark glare shooting in the direction; hands fisted at his sides, he looked ready to pounce. Jason had always had an impeccable jawline, but when he clenched his teeth like that? _Razor sharp_. She imagined sitting on it and practically gushed at the thought. 

His eyes were glued to them. Every now and then she’d see them flick down, to where Trust Fund Baby’s hands were pressed awfully low onto her back; then those deadly blue eyes would meet hers again, and she’d watch his scowl deepen as he wet his lips. 

Fuck, he really _was_ the jealous type. Something coiled up inside of her at the notion. 

Blondie bought her forced enthusiasm a little too well, or maybe misunderstood her sudden excitement to be for him. He leaned in close, close enough that she could smell the brandy on his breath and close enough that she could see the dilation of his dark brown eyes. His fingers crept over the fabric cresting her ass. “How about I be your Prince Charming then?”

She couldn’t help it; she barked out a single spout of laughter in the middle of the waltz. She felt eyes on the back of her neck and her face and her entire damn body, and she shrunk a little in embarrassment. Her face undoubtedly glowed red, but she continued chuckling beneath her breath. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked when she didn’t answer him right away. 

Jason glared right into the back of Blondie’s head. Then that blue glanced at her, and he took a swig from the squat glass in his hand. Amber liquid. Bourbon, maybe? Whatever it was, it was hard, and her mouth watered at the mere idea of getting drunk at some stupid gala with Jason only to go home with him afterwards.

She grinned at the idea. “Absolutely not.”

Blondie stumbled over his own feet during the second to last section of notes; the hand on her ass went limp. “Excuse me?”

“You aren’t my Prince Charming,” she said. As soon as the final notes from the waltz rang out, she separated her hands from the disgusting sleazeball in front of her. “ _My_ Prince Charming is currently at the bar trying not to bash your face in.”

She tried to stifle the guilt creeping over her stomach—Jason very obviously _wasn’t_ hers, meaning there was no reason to call him _her_ Prince Charming. That alone was purely wishful thinking. But Trust Fund Baby didn’t need to know that at the moment. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Thank you for the dance, but I must be going,” she said with another terse smile, this one significantly less friendly than its previous counterparts. 

She’d be lying if she said that leaving that fucker in the dust didn’t feel the least bit amazing. No more unwanted hands on her body, no more poorly-attempted suaveness, no more utter violation of her personal comfort; that, and she was making her way to the bar, where her (albeit romantically-unrequiting) lover stood. All in all, appreciated, if not ideal. 

“You do realize that this is a black and white gala, right?” she said with a smirk as she approached Jason. 

The drink in his hand was rather low given she’d seen him order it halfway through the dance filled to the brim. He swallowed the last mouthful in a huff; the blue of his eyes was so sharp it almost cut her. “I had to make sure I stood out for you. _Obviously_ , it wasn’t enough, though.”

“Oh, you stood out,” she said, stepping closer so that their arms brushed. “Like a red flag, quite literally.”

“Is that why you avoided me all night?”

Frustration riddled his voice, yes, but she could also hear the barest hints of lust trembling in it as well. Good; she’d succeeded in getting him all hot and bothered. Glancing down at the slight bulge in his trousers only seconded that little fact. She met his eyes, unyielding to their cold azure. 

Chuckling, she said, “One of the many reasons, actually.”

“There are _multiple_?” he asked, licking his lips. He tugged at his collar once more as he eyed up and down her dress. 

“Those associates from LexCorp were fun to talk to,” she said, humming as she feigned thinking. Jason’s nose scrunched in agitation. “Luthor’s planning some more of his dastardly _funding_ down in Metropolis.”

“That’s hardly a good reason to leave me _wanting_ you all night, love.” Her body trembled at the roughness of his voice, and her cheeks burned. 

She swallowed back all of her own _want_ for Jason to instead shoot him an amused look. “I also enjoyed hearing those heiresses talking about how some of their earrings costed the equivalent of a small country—I can’t wait to tell Selina about them when I see her again so she can steal those stupid gems right from underneath their rich noses.”

“Oh?” he asked, not laughing at the slightest at her joke. The way he so intensely scrutinized her made her feel as though she was already undressed in his mind. 

“There’s also the fact that I am _working_ right now, and therefore can’t afford any distractions.” She tried to hide a grin from him and failed. Jason wasn’t discreet in the slightest, from his semi-obvious hard-on to the taut angle of his jaw. 

He glowered at her. Fuck, she wanted to kiss down the bridge of his nose and over his sharp cheek bones and along his jaw and just _all over him_. She bit her lip to stop herself from straight up jumping him. “So I’m just a distraction now?”

“A good distraction, so don’t you worry your pretty little face, Mr. Todd.” 

Jason’s ‘pretty little face’ didn’t look very amused. “As opposed to a bad distraction. . . ?”

“The dumbass I just danced with, for one,” she smiled. She’d have to get him just a wee bit more worked up for this night to go how she wanted it to (preferably, with her pressed up against a wall somewhere getting mercilessly fucked by her best-friend-slash-love-of-her-life). 

Shifting forward to obstruct the view from Jason’s front from any onlookers (and maybe to breathe in more of his intoxicating cologne), she palmed his erection. He hissed out a low “ _Fuck!_ ” and bucked into her hand. The contact only occurred for a slow count to five, and ended with his body following her fingertips as they retreated back to her side. 

This was exactly what she wanted: control over their situation. 

“Tease,” Jason coughed, rubbing a rough hand over his mouth and eyeing Trust Fund Baby on the other side of the room. “You- you two looked like you had fun, though?”

“Yeah, sure,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, before grabbing a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter. Alcohol was a necessity after any interaction with that blond bastard. 

“I would’ve- I would’ve thought you’d want to return to Mr. Perfect and just _dance_ that night away,” he said, tearing his gaze away to look fiercely at her. Jason’s brow furrowed. 

His jaw clamped tightly, freed only momentarily as he licked his lips. He seemed intent to hear her answer and leaned closer to her. Externally, she feigned a demure disinterest, but internally? Her body shivered with suspense and excitement. 

“Jason,” she said. “He was drunk. And awfully handsy.”

He glowered back at Blondie, his body (subconsciously?) moving closer to hers. Heat and anger radiated off of him. “Give me an hour and he’ll be _awfully_ dead instead.”

“That long?” she teased, sipping the bubbly, bitter beverage. 

He didn’t seem to find her comment very funny. His blue eyes shone icily in the bright light of the room as he closed the space between them. Stopping a hairbreadth away from her ear, she could smell the lovely tang of his cologne. “Why don’t you and I go somewhere more _private_?”

“Jason,” she gasped as his hot breath traced over her neck. All traces of humor fled her voice. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll show you an _actual_ good time,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. His hand, braced on the table beside her, stretched its thumb out to trace slow circles on her exposed hip. She already knew her underwear was soaked. 

She bit the inside of her cheek when he actually nibbled her earlobe. Jason groaned as he did so, the sound low and harsh in her ear like the relatively tame contact alone got him off. “You know that I- I’m on the job.”

“That didn’t stop you from fraternizing with that _bastard_ , love.” Hell, his voice alone could have made her cum. Gravelly, deep, just barely a whisper, and so fucking raw. She cursed beneath her breath. 

“Technically, that was Selina’s fault,” she finally managed to say. Jason’s hand completely left the table’s surface, instead latching onto her leg. While there wasn’t any actual kissing going on, his mouth trembled over her skin, moving from her ear to the corner of her jaw. “ _Jason_ , we’re in public.”

“We could always go somewhere that isn’t public,” he suggested with a wolfish grin, pulling away slightly. “Though, I’m not overly picky at the moment, angel.”

“Jason-”

“Hmm? What do you say?” His blue eyes flashed, impossibly bright, as if daring her to oppose him. 

This wasn’t fucking fair. He was too goddamn gorgeous for his own good and she felt her morals melting away into nothing. She cleared her throat, desperately hanging on. The only way she’d get out of this is if she riled him up more than he did her. 

“Mm,” she hummed, a smile curving over her lips. Jason swallowed thickly, suddenly _very_ interested in her mouth. “ _Nope_.”

His eyebrows shot up, and the confident, predatory gleam in his eyes faltered for just a moment. His hand gripped her skin tightly, like he was afraid to let her go. “Oh?”

She looked around for Bruce—right now, he was the person she was worried about the most. She saw Selina at his side, her delicate hand on his back, guiding his body away from her and Jason; Selina flashed a wink her way when their eyes met. Fuck, she didn’t know if she should thank her or curse her for this entire goddamn situation—either one would be better suited for after the gala, however. She could only turn back to Jason and continue this little affair of theirs.

“Would you like to know something else, Jason?” she asked sweetly. 

“Sure, _love_.” He placed extra emphasis on the term of endearment, and she knew she was playing a dangerous game. 

She brushed closer to him, enjoying the slight clenching of his hand into her hip as she did so. His thumb started to dip below the silk of her dress. “I’m technically breaking the dress code, too.”

“Sweetheart, even if your dress reflects a little color, I’m sure you’re fine-”

“I wasn’t talking about my dress, Jason,” she smiled and glanced down. At the same time, his thumb finally trailed over the lace of her lingerie. His hand tightened as he gulped. A dark blush seized his cheeks. 

His voice was barely a low whisper when he spoke. “What color?”

“We’re matching.” She wet her lips with her tongue. The dark look in his eyes made something in her stomach clench. 

“Red?” he asked, even though she knew that he knew the answer already. 

“ _Red_.” 

His jaw hardened again, this time from the battling of lust and self-restraint as opposed to his previous anger. And the look on his face? Christ, she swore he was going to pin her up against the nearest column regardless of whether they had an audience or not. Somehow, she didn’t mind the thought in the slightest. 

“Minx,” he growled. 

She smiled, dragging a finger over his jaw. The roughness of his stubble, already growing back in despite shaving a few hours earlier, was pleasantly sharp against her fingertip; she wondered how it would feel against the insides of her thighs. 

“What’s wrong, Jason?” she asked. Feigned innocence became her weapon of choice. 

“ _I need you_.” 

Any witty retort that had previously been loaded on the tip of her tongue died away. Her throat dried at the sheer desperation and lowness of his voice. Just like that, all of the power she wielded over him was taken right back. 

If it was any consolation, Jason didn’t look like he knew how much power he had over her in the moment. He did, however, look like he wanted to take her right there and then. 

“Fuck,” she hissed, not just because he sounded sexy as all hell but because she didn’t even fucking mind if they had an audience at the moment. 

“I don’t know if that’s socially acceptable right now, love.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her. His hand, gripping her hip tightly enough to where she knew she’d have bruises there tomorrow morning, tugged her body closer to him. 

She breathed in deeply in an attempt to take back the reins. When in doubt, _sass_. “Weren’t you the one who said you weren’t ‘overly picky at the moment?’”

“I’m _trying_ to preserve your _modesty_ ,” he managed to bite out. Oh, she loved how testy he got when she was smartassing him and he was trying to contain himself. At the same time, her heart fluttered in her chest at his consideration. 

Fuck her life—how could he manage to turn her on and make her fall in love that much more with him (hell, if that were _even_ possible at this point) at the same time? There she was, trying to get over him by trying to give him a taste of her own medicine, and he always managed to get the upper hand. 

“What modesty?” she chuckled, albeit shakily, as she glanced down at her dress. Jason’s eyes followed hungrily. The silk clung so tightly to her that it looked more like water dripping from her body; that wasn’t even counting the cleavage it showed or its completely open back or the slit running up her leg. 

“You’re playing with fire.” That was a warning, and she knew she would do well to heed it. 

Did she, though? Of course not. She was going to make this boy _beg_ for her, consequences be damned. 

She trailed another light touch over his jaw, chuckling at the way he closed his eyes at the feeling. Still as needy and touch-starved as ever, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “Guess it’s a little too late to tell you that I’ve always been a little bit of an arsonist?”

“I mean it-”

“So do I.”

Jason groaned, his fingers pulling ever so slightly on the band of her panties. “Fuck, angel, I want you so bad right now.”

Her stomach might have clenched pleasantly at the sound of his lust-torn voice, but she refused to give in just yet. She leaned in closer to him. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“How bad?”

“My cock,” he murmured in a low voice, “-is begging to be buried deep inside your pretty cunt, sweetheart. I don’t care if we make it to a bed or a wall or if I have to fuck you while holding you up. . . I just _need you_.”

She couldn’t stop the moan bubbling up in her throat even if she tried. Fuck, he was so lewd, and she loved it. Jason brushed his fingers closer to where she needed him most. Thank Christ his hand was relatively hidden or they would have undoubtedly been thrown out of the place as soon as anyone happened to notice. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere else, then?”

Jason gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the collar of his dress shirt. “Even though you’re on the job?”

Backtracking for her sake, because he knew how much she needed this job; he was so goddamn considerate, even when he was just as desperate for a quick fuck as she was. Christ, he was _too_ perfect for his own good. What chance did she ever even have?

“I think I’m due for a fifteen minute break,” she said. After a quick flick of her eyes over their surroundings, making sure no one was paying attention to them, she brushed her knee up the inside of his thigh; when she neared his cock, he bit out a throaty curse. 

“How- how about the east wing?” He bit his lip when she dropped her leg back down. 

“Sure. If we go far enough towards Carnegie Hall, we shouldn’t have any unwanted guests?” she suggested. 

“Perfect.” 

He made a move to hold her hand, though she pulled away. Not just because it would look suspicious, but because her heart couldn’t take another fall from blind hope. He didn’t love her and this was just sex between them—if he acted like he _did_ love her, even for just a second, she’d break as soon as reality came crashing back. 

Jason shot her a questioning look that only thinly veiled the hurt beneath it. With a curt clear of her throat, she said, “It’ll- it’ll look odd if we leave at the same time.” 

“No one’s paying attention to us, love.” The way Jason looked at her, _into_ her, was borderline exposing; she felt less like they were having a conversation and more like an interrogation, though the sexy kind (if a sexy kind of interrogation existed, that is). 

She internally shrugged away the feeling, desperate to keep the ruse going on while still releasing some of her pent up frustrations. “Still, better safe than sorry, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I guess.” He looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but seeing as it would get neither of them off, he agreed with her. Smart boy. 

“Give me a head start?” she asked with a vaguely forced grin. Hopefully he didn’t see that, though. 

Jason frowned like the idea of leaving her alone for a mere second would kill him. Still, he said, “One minute. Then I’m coming for you.”

“Was that a pun?”

“Fifty-six seconds.”

She chuckled as she left his side. Jason always _was_ the kind of person who wasn’t too fond of waiting—he could do it, for sure, but he wouldn’t be happy while he did. 

Weaving in and out of the crowd like she had done during the previous hours of the event, she felt a strange mixture of giddy and terrified; arousal prickled along her body, fluttering in her stomach, yet all the while her head wouldn’t stop spinning around and around at the idea of just how _stupid_ she was to let this situation get so bad. 

She rushed down the main hallway, thankful for the thick carpet that masked the sounds of her hasty footsteps. All the while, she counted down in her head: _36\. . . 35. . . 34. . . 33. . . ._

Two left turns and a right. It was hardwired within her to remember, though it might come in handy if she got cold feet. The corridor she found herself in was darker than the main hall, lit up only by ornate electrical sconces. _21\. . . 19. . . 18. . . 17. . . ._

She stopped, finding a little nook behind one of the Corinthian pillars and the black velvet curtains that hung over many of the walls. There was enough space to comfortably fit two people, and it was well hidden from anyone who happened to stroll in that direction—no one would be able to interrupt them (if they managed to stay quiet, that was). _6\. . . 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1._

All that was left to do was wait. It was nerve-wracking, and left her mind to spiral; self-loathing held the hand that Jason had grabbed at. Not only had she doubted his word before he showed up, but she was also prolonging her own emotional downfall. 

A shout of laughter that sounded from down the hall—some drunk, not Jason—made her jump. Now wasn’t the time to mourn her broken time, it was the time to be extra aware. If she didn’t, Jason might very well catch her off guard. She listened for the sound of footsteps, her ears pricking at every murmur of faraway voices and whine of string instruments. 

It wasn’t like listening would do much. The carpets were thick and Jason was a professional, ergo, she wouldn’t be able to hear him approach. The thought was nice, though. 

She peeked through the little opening between the pillar and the velvet curtain. The dim hallway was just as disturbed as it had been when she first saw it. Across from her hiding place was Carnegie Hall, empty because it hadn’t been booked for the night. Maybe her hiding spot was a little too good. Maybe she’d need to look for him-

“Found you, angel.” Jason’s voice, rough from want, sounded behind her ear. 

His name was torn from her lungs. “ _Jason_.” 

“I must say, I do like the place you’ve picked out for us tonight.” He still hadn’t touched her, still hadn’t put his hands or his mouth or his body on hers like she needed him to. Anticipation burned over her skin, making her hyper-aware to each scalding breath of his sweeping over her neck. 

“Oh?” That was all she could really say, given her wild heart and trembling legs. 

“Yes,” he said. She finally turned at the sound of a smile in his voice, remembering her objective for the night: control. “It’s perfectly private enough for the two of us.”

Ah, they were back to verbal chess. She’d have to see how long he lasted before he eventually gave in. 

She managed a chuckle despite the pulse pounding in her throat. “And here I thought you liked the thrill of being caught?”

Jason’s grin widened, and he stooped lower to look her in the eyes; she could have drowned in the near-luminescent blue of his irises. “Sometimes, sure. Other times, well, other times, I want you all to myself.”

She would have to make the first move. Her hand smoothed over his lapel, feeling the soft material beneath her fingertips and palm. Jay shifted, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was tempted. _Good_. He should be. “I could certainly gather that much from how _intently_ you watched me all night.” 

“That’s not important right now,” he said. Her thumb brushed over his Adam’s apple, and he swallowed thickly. 

“No?” she almost purred. 

“No.”

“And why not?” His right hand grasped her wrist, stopping her from teasingly touching him. She pouted but didn’t say anything in protest. 

“Well, someone was bad tonight,” he said. He made the move to touch her this time; his fingertips ghosted over her bare shoulders, brushing up her neck. She shuddered and bit back a moan. 

“Was it the someone who kept me waiting for three hours?” she asked. “Because if so, I agree.” 

Jason chuckled darkly, though didn’t make any other move to touch her more intimately; he was in it for the long haul, or at least he was pretending to be. The look in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. “I wouldn’t say that. I’d say it was the _someone_ who kept me chasing after her all night.”

“How peculiar—I don’t think I know of anyone that fits that description.” With her free hand, she played first with the hem of his jacket before unbuttoning it. She kept her touches just as sparing as his. 

“Oh, really?” he bit out. _Perfect_. Already, his resolve was crumbling, and she’d barely even touched him. 

Her fingers traced small, looped patterns over his waistcoat, slowly but surely dipping lower. The muted sounds of the orchestra from the main hall failed to mask his heavy breathing. Jason was distracted—she took full advantage of this by tugging her captured hand away from his slackened grip. 

In a silken voice, she said, “I’ve been watching over the crowds for ages, Mr. Todd, and unfortunately, I haven’t seen the individual you’re looking for.”

“You haven’t happened upon any mirrors then.” She rolled her eyes at his grade-school-caliber retort. 

“Funny,” she smiled. Her hands stopped their downward trek, instead moving to curl around his collar. “Because the only suspicious character I’ve seen all night is right in front of me.”

A strangled sound emitted from his throat. Jason’s hands shook as they cupped the back of her neck—holding himself back was a physical battle at this point. “What- what’re you going to do to me, sweetheart?” 

“Maybe suck you off, maybe let you fuck me senseless. Maybe nothing, if you keep this attitude up and don’t just touch me already,” she said with an arched eyebrow. 

“Damn you,” he grunted. 

His lips found hers in an instant, pressing and nipping and begging for entrance. When she opened her mouth, he slanted his own over hers. Only one of his hands was tangled in her hair; the other reached out behind her, searching blindly for something to push her up against. The cool silk of the wallpaper greeted the flushed skin of her back a second later. 

In an instant, she was set afloat in a sea of pure _Jason_ —his hands held onto her tightly, his body stooped over her own, his cologne drowning her even further. She broke the kiss to gasp for air, even though she knew she was already lost to him. 

Jason took full advantage of the situation by moving his mouth to the side of her neck. Even though the kisses there were sharp and quick, he wasn’t using his teeth; he wasn’t leaving marks for her sake. 

“Such a tease, all fucking night long,” he said when he separated from her skin, for just a moment. 

A gasped “Says you,” was all she could manage. 

He kissed over her clavicle, each feverish suck of his lips lingering just a bit longer than the previous. “And how the hell was _I_ teasing _you_?”

“Chasing me through the hall like that, for one.” She hissed out a curse when one of his hands moved down to her hip, just barely creeping into the slit of her dress. 

“You’re the one who ran in the first place, darling.” 

“You’re the one who grinned at me like you were going to absolutely ravish me if you finally caught me.”

Jason huffed out a laugh. “You don’t want me to do that?” 

Oh, hell, she was losing. To get her grip on reality (and on Jason again), she wound her fingers into his hair. “I- I never said that.”

“Then how was it teasing?” The kisses that trailed over her chest were lighter now, maybe because Jason knew he was the one who held the power, and maybe because he just wanted to continue taking his damn time. 

_Okay_ , she told herself, though forming a coherent thought with Jason’s hands pressing over her was rather difficult. _Stroke his ego just a little bit before you give him hell_. 

“Christ, do you know how wet you had me all night, looking at me like you wanted to completely _devour_ me?” she murmured, making sure to tug on his hair and curve against him. “I almost jumped you when you finally came over.”

“ _Fuck_ \- God, sweetheart,” Jason said, the sound choked and hot against her skin. His lips crushed into her skin with a little more edge. 

“Jay?” she asked softly, brushing a kiss over his forehead. 

Finally, his teeth bit sharply into her skin. “Yeah?”

“I need you.” The sound was breathy like she wanted it to be, though it wasn’t exactly difficult to sound eager when her pulse thrummed wildly throughout her body and every nerve within her was set on fire. 

“Good thing I’m here now, angel.” 

Cockiness wound into his voice; maybe she’d stroked his ego just a tad too much. He’d managed to gain his footing sooner than she had expected him to. She was at his mercy, and she didn’t even give a damn about it. 

Jason teased the tip of his tongue up her throat. The hand tangled in her hair traced further up, exposing more of her neck to him; his other hand moved from the wall to trap her waist. There, it massaged small circles into her skin. She shivered against him—somehow, he always knew how to make her desperate and needy for him. 

“Love,” he rumbled against her skin. The hand on her hip grazed down until it met the bare skin of her leg. 

She already knew what he was going to do—his touch, feather-soft over her thigh, started to bunch up the fabric of her dress. When Jason finally, _finally_ reached her panties, she moaned against him. He hadn’t even touched her properly and she already knew she was dripping. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice cautious and compassionate as his fingers trembled against the skin of her inner thighs. 

“Yes, _please_.” _That_ was a whimper. 

All at once, his mouth opened over her neck. His teeth dragged over her pulse, his tongue and lips softening the sting. As lightly as possible, so much so that she thought it might be her aching need at first, his fingers brushed over the damp bottoms of her lingerie. 

Jason separated briefly from her neck to breathe out a curse, before saying, “So wet for me already, angel? And you say you didn’t like my teasing.” 

He leaned further into her, pressing her body up against the wall and up against him. His fingers teased over the lace of her panties. Pleasure and want streaked through her, and she needed _so much more from him_. 

“Jason-”

He pulled away before he reached her clit, a dangerous grin pressed against her shoulder. “Love, tell me, would that fucker you danced with earlier have been able to make you feel this good?”

He was still caught up on that? She thrust her hips forward in an attempt to seek him out—any contact would do. She found none and huffed. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Would he be able to kiss you like this-?” He mouthed a hot line down her throat, “Would he make you moan like this-?” He trailed his teeth over her skin, causing her to quiver and mewl, “Would he be able to pleasure you like this-?” His thumb trailed a steady line over her heat, finally pressing against her clit. 

“Jason, please,” she gasped, rutting against his hand to get herself off. “ _More_.”

“Angel.” His hands stopped touching her as he stepped away. Cold greeted her flushed skin, covering all of the places they had previously been connected. “Answer my question, and _maybe_ you’ll get what you want.”

One look at his eyes glittering in the dim light, a smug grin stretched over his face, and she knew she couldn’t let him win. Even if she wanted to ride him all night, even if she wanted his mouth on her heat until her legs shook, even if she fucking _needed_ him to come undone, she wouldn’t let him best her that easily. 

“Well?” Jason asked, arching an eyebrow and grinning down at her. He swiped a thumb—the one that had pressed so perfectly against her clit—over his bottom lip. 

She smiled back at him, sweetly, looking out from beneath hooded eyelids. “I don’t know. Should I go ask him in order to cross-compare?”

She masked her disgust at the idea of spending even another second with that blond man-child. But, seeing as Jason was currently gritting his jaw so tightly she could see the lines of definition running from his cheekbones to his chin, she could stomach the idea. Totally worth it. 

She watched as his face twisted from shock to disbelief to anger to jealousy, until it settled onto a mixture of all four. He took a step forward—she found it funny how a minute ago, he had wanted to keep away to maintain control, and now he was crawling back to her. As if to mock him, she matched his movement with a step backwards. 

“ _Don’t_.” One word, one syllable, and yet it conveyed the dark envy and heavy want humming within him. She shuddered at the sound but still met his gaze. 

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to know?” she asked, innocence dripping from each word. 

“They were rhetorical questions,” Jason bit out. 

“Were they?” Her voice dripped with pure innocence. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare go back to that scumbag. Don’t even _think_ about him.”

Taking another step back, she relished in the fact that his body chased after hers. His eyes didn’t leave her body once, like she’d dart down the hall in an instant if he did. She faked a pout. “Oh, but now I’m curious.” 

“Don’t. I mean it.” 

And he sounded like he meant it. Hell, she never thought she’d like possessiveness in a guy, but somehow Jason made it irresistibly _hot_. Her core clenched again, and she swore that if he just put his cock in her right then and there, she cum hard around it. 

She gulped. Those kinds of thoughts would only serve to be her downfall—there was no way she’d be able to afford losing again, not when she was so ready for him. Right now, she was in control, and she was going to keep it that way; if she didn’t, she’d undoubtedly have her heart shattered into nothing. 

“Well, maybe if I had some incentive to stay here. . . .” 

The trap was set, with each tripwire and net set perfectly in place. Now all he had to do was walk right into it. 

And walk into it he did. Jason licked his lips. “What- what can I do to get you to stay?” 

Oh, yes. _Yes_. This was exactly what she wanted: for him to be the begging mess, for him to be the one desperate enough for her to get down on his knees and plead for it. 

“What are you willing to do?” she asked lightly, both to tease and as reference. She didn’t want to push him too far out of his comfort zone, after all. 

“Anything.”

“. . . Anything?” 

“ _Anything_.”

That answer surprised her. The only thing that surprised her more was the conviction with which he said it. She was well aware that he wanted her—his prominent hard-on was evidence enough of that little fact—but hadn’t really realized exactly how _much_ he wanted her. 

She hummed, finally ready to move forward with her plan of attack. “Okay, Jason, then keep your hands to yourself for a little bit.”

He grit his jaw, maybe out of annoyance or maybe out of desire, but mechanically shifted his arms to rest at his sides nonetheless. His voice was thick with want when he asked, “Is that- is that all you want me to do?”

“Of course not.” She quirked an eyebrow and grinned at him. “Up against the wall, please.”

Jason shuffled rigidly over to the wall. He didn’t move his hands, nor did he say anything in protest, but the desperate, biting look he shot her way exhibited his distaste all the same. She just grinned at him, biting on the tip of her thumb as she decided what she wanted to do first. 

She could kiss his neck until he begged her to take him, or she could trail her fingers over his body until he trembled; stroking his cock until he was close to cumming was another tantalizing option, as was touching herself just to watch him squirm. She could always do all of the aforementioned, as well, just to shake things up a bit. The possibilities were endless, in all honesty. 

She looped her hands around his collar once more. With her nose brushed up against his neck, she said, “Did you know that your cologne has been driving me crazy this whole night?” 

“No, I- I didn’t.” His shoulders shook as her lips skimmed over his throat. 

“It made me want to fuck you every time I smelled it,” she murmured. 

Only then did she slant her mouth over his skin—it was salty from sweat, though she didn’t mind. The lovely taste spurred her to kiss the spot harder. Both the thrumming nips of his pulse and heavy, throaty moans bloomed into her tongue. 

“Fuck- oh my God, _please_.”

His hands whispered over her hips—she pulled away from him completely, enjoying the strangled curse that flew from his mouth. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands to yourself, Jay?” 

“It’s- hell- it’s harder than it looks, sweetheart,” he gasped out. His wide shoulders were pulled taut. Frustration carved into his face, knitting his brow and curving his mouth into a solid frown. “Especially when you’re touching me like that.”

“And yet I’ve barely even _touched_ you.” She chuckled at the way his eyebrows curled up, his face softening from want. 

" _Fuck_."

"Not yet. Especially if you don't follow my rules." She was drunk off of power and want and just _Jason_. 

“I- I’ll keep my hands to myself, then,” he coughed. As if to make good on his promise, his hands fisted themselves into the material of his trousers. 

She breathed out a quick “Good,” before pressing up against him once more. This time, in addition to mouthing hot kisses up his throat, she found the conspicuous bulge in his pants with one of her hands. The other twisted into his hair, pulling his head away from hers in case he tried to coax her into submission with his lips again. 

Her lips followed along the sharp ridge of his jaw, his stubble just barely biting into her tongue; her fingers mirrored the movement, trailing soft touches over his clothed cock. When she reached his earlobe, she bit into it like he had hers in the ballroom. Just like she expected, he choked out a groan and bucked into her hand. 

“I need you,” he muttered out.

“You’ll have to wait, Jay-darling.”

She palmed his erection again, biting her lip at the hotness poking into her hand. Oh, hell, she wanted to ride him; maybe when the night was over and they were back at the apartment, she’d be able to. 

The sound of fabric shuffling sounded, amidst Jason’s hushed moans. With each caress over his clothed cock, he grew louder and more impatient. His arms were stiff at his sides as his fingers gathered more of his trousers. Riling him up was too damn easy. 

His body shuddered against hers. She’d never seen him like this—wanting to please someone so much but still so eager to be touched all the same. 

Alternating between rough kneads with her palm and softer, lighter strokes of her fingertips, she felt his body slowly come undone beneath her; it started with labored breaths and little nudges of his hips into her hands, though quickly escalated into muddled groans and full-on bucks against her. Still, he never made another blatant attempt to touch her, meaning she could continue to escalate. 

“Please,” he begged, and God, she’d never thought that she’d have Jason Peter Todd begging her for anything.

“‘Please’ what?” Her name, practically crushed from his lips, was Jason’s only response. “Jay, you’ll have to tell me what you want so I can give it to you.”

 _Even if it’s my heart, my life, my everything_ , she almost murmured out loud. The thought shocked her; she’d been so intent on protecting herself from him for the night—for once in her godforsaken life, rather—and yet she couldn’t escape the want and need to make him happy at any cost. 

“Please let me touch you- please please _please_ let me make you feel good.” She pulled away to meet his eyes, and saw a pleading kind of resolution within them. 

She prayed that her heart didn't misinterpret the want behind his voice. They were just friends after all, even if they were friends who happened to fuck; it made sense that Jason would want to look after her. That rationalization didn't exactly stop her chest from aching from a dyadic mixture of lightness and foreboding, however. Worried she let her true emotions show, she brushed her hand over his hard-on once more to disguise her hesitance. 

“Okay, Jay,” she said, pecking the corner of his jaw. “You can touch me now.”

His hands were on her in an instant, crushing against her waist, feeling up her back, moving down again to squeeze her ass. Rough calluses from years of vigilantism pressed and scraped into the sensitive skin of her back; his nails dug into her at times, scratching, pricking, kneading, though she didn’t mind the pain. Hell, she even welcomed it with little gasps and moans just to spur him on. 

It was like he’d never felt her before, like this was their first time together and he didn’t want to miss any of the details. If only there was some of that worshipful love behind his actions, the kind she had for him, and not just unbridled lust. She bit her lip at that painful thought. 

There wasn’t much time for her to contemplate too much on the shittiness of her current situation, however. Jason pressed her against the wall in an instant, more of his body meeting her own. One of his legs moved between hers—his muscled chest pressed up against her cleavage—his hands still continued their haphazard path over her skin. She was completely surrounded by him, completely _drowning_ in him, and she didn’t want to breathe air ever again if it meant just another _minute_ in his arms. 

He tasted like bourbon, something she greedily licked and sucked up. When he kissed her, his teeth nipped over her bottom lip, and his tongue fought against hers, demanding victory. Of course, she couldn’t let him win no matter how badly she wanted him. 

But the real thing that got her, the real cause for her utter desperation in that moment, was when she opened her eyes, she met his, so blue in the dim light that they practically glowed—with each swirl of his tongue and press of his lips, those damned eyes bore into hers, demanding to be seen, pushing to be understood. 

One of his hands eased beneath the silk of her dress, pressing his fingers over her skin, trailing them up until he palmed her breast. A hot thrill shot through her, streaking into her core. She moaned into him. 

His mouth, hot against her throat, branded kisses into her skin, like she was his, _like she was his_. Desperate for more friction, she curved into him, her heat pressing against his cock in a way that left her gasping for air. 

“Shit- Jay,” she moaned. 

“Keep saying my name like that, angel,” he growled into her. “Don’t ever fucking stop.”

He ground against her again. The way he managed to find her clothed clit with so little effort was a sin. Good thing she wasn’t expecting to get into heaven any time soon. “Yes!”

“Just my name- fuck _-_ only _my_ name, okay?” Jason said. Another searing thrust sent pure, hot need racing through her. 

“Yes, _Jason_ ,” she murmured. 

“Perfect, sweetheart, just- just like that.” His voice grew hoarser as his teeth skimmed over her shoulder. She met each press of his cock with needy ruts of her own. “Don’t stop, _please don’t stop_.”

Even though he was the one pinning her up against the wall, grinding his delicious cock into her, holding most, if not all of the control over the situation, _Jason_ was still the one begging _her_. The thought alone made her gasp out a laugh. Said laugh quickly dissolved into a moan when his hands, clasped firmly around her waist, pushed her further into him. 

“Jay-Jason,” she cried out. 

“Just my name, please, _please_ , God, please, _just my name_.” It was a muttering sort of ramble, one that betrayed all of his want and desire for her. The sound of his pleading voice alone could have made her cum. 

She was a little ashamed to admit that she whimpered. “Don’t stop, Jason- shit- _please_.”

“My name,” he hissed. “Just my name, only my name, forever- hell, forever my name, okay?”

“Yeah- yes, Jason.” Clinging tightly to his body, her hands gripping into his tuxedo jacket for dear life, she was sure that if she were to stand by herself at that moment, her legs would buckle underneath her. She was a mess for him—at least he was a bit of a mess for her, as well. 

“Fuck, angel-!” 

His thrusts against her quickened. Every rock against her inched her closer to the edge of bliss; hot, fluttering shivers trailed over her skin as pleasure tightened in her core. Between the slow buildup of anticipation in the ballroom before, and now the escalating contact that sparked between them, she knew she was going to cum. And soon, too. 

Their moans hummed out in the still air, always in sync and always sounding so perfect together. Every now and then, he would grunt out her name or a hushed curse. Each fleeting pressure of his cock against her core grew more haphazard than the last—Jason was just as close as she was. Christ, she needed to see him come undone, maybe more than she needed to come undone herself. 

He slowed just as she was reaching her peak. “Jay, what-?”

“As much as I would _adore_ for us to get ourselves off this way,” he breathed, trailing his nose up her neck in what she assumed was attempted self-control. “-I want to cum inside _you_ , angel, not inside my fucking pants.”

She rutted against him, still trying to get herself off. It was unfair how _close_ she was to bliss, and now he wasn’t giving it to her. Gulping, she decided to play along and tease him. “Is that so?”

He ground against her slowly, though it wasn’t enough for either of them. The pace he had set before was brutal and quick and rough and exactly what she needed; this was torturous and time-biding, drawn out like it _wouldn't_ drive them both mad with lust. 

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Jason said. “I want- I want your precious little pussy around my cock. And I want you to go back into that ballroom with _my_ cum dripping down _your_ thighs for the rest of the night. And I- _oh hell_ \- I just want- I want _you_. Is that okay?”

“Always such a gentleman, huh, Jay?” She gasped out a laugh. “Always- always had a way with word- _fuck_ , please, _Jason_.”

His mouth latched onto the junction where her neck and shoulder met. Each kiss there was scalding and slow, his tongue and his teeth and his lips each taking their respective time to taste and tease the skin there. “Hush, you.”

“No- no marks,” she whispered. Her hands twisted in his hair to try and keep her body steady. 

Jason hummed in response. The kisses grew softer, with his hands, clutched onto her hips, shaking from self-imposed restraint. “What do you say, sweetheart? Can I- can I take you now?”

“Not yet.” To really get him excited, she hooked one of her legs around his waist, pushing him in. She knew he wouldn’t go further unless she gave him the verbal go, which meant she could play with him just a little longer. 

“ _Please_ ,” he breathed against her. 

She rocked against him, sharply inhaling at the bliss following the friction. “Just wait a little while longer.”

“You’re driving me crazy-”

“No.” 

“I need you, _I need you_.” His voice was dark and heady against her skin. As if to entice her to say the words that would end this sweet torture for the both of them, his lips skimmed up her jaw. 

She didn’t answer. How could she, for when he leaned back, the dim light, glittering in his eyes like embers, enchanted her? She was bewitched by the sweet yet desperate curve of his mouth, dazzled by the way his brow furrowed from a crude mixture of selfishness and selflessness. 

In that moment, she realized he’d stolen everything away from her: her breath, her heart, her soul. 

Oh, hell, she wanted him. She wanted his body on hers like he loved her, wanted to wake up in his arms tomorrow, wanted him to hold her with those gorgeous hands of his for the rest of time. She wanted him, always and forever just _him_ , by her side, alive and happy and safe. 

“Angel?” Jason asked, his voice somehow light and rough at the same time. Asking for permission, just like always—careful, gentlemanly, putting her first like she _wasn’t_ the one using him for her own selfish benefit. He was too kind for his own good, and she didn’t deserve him, and-

 _He doesn’t love you_ , a small voice in her head reminded her. _He doesn’t love you like you love him_. _You have_ no right _to want him_. 

She couldn’t take it. The adoration covering his face, the affection in his soft voice—was it real? Was she dreaming? Was she dead and was this her sick introduction into hell?

There was no way he’d ever feel the same way as her, and she was a fool for even believing there was. 

This. . . this couldn’t go on. For his sake and for her own, she’d have to end this thing between them. It would be their last night, before one of them got hurt. Well, she’d still get hurt, but if it meant Jason left this breach of friendship unscathed, she’d be able to bear its sting alone. 

Her pulse was heavy in her ears and throat, deafening her, suffocating her. She sighed a soft, little exhale. Her grip on him loosened, and her leg fell back to the ground to support herself. 

“I think my fifteen minute break is up,” she said with a tight smile. It was more than a little forced, but completely necessary. She needed to hide the hurt before he picked up on it; if he found out she loved him, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d force himself to make her happy like he did everyone else in his life, and she’d rather die than do that to him. 

“Like hell it is.” His voice was still riddled with want, and his body was still pressed against hers. His hands, still clasped around her waist, tightened. 

She swallowed, trying to sync up her thoughts and her heart. “Jay, we’ve always got later.”

“Is this your- is that your final answer?” Caution tempered the words. His grip loosened a fraction as he pulled away to stare into her eyes. 

She could only nod. 

“Ah,” Jason said. Worry scribbled over his face, tightening his jaw and creasing his forehead. “Sorry if I went too far, sweetheart. That’s- that's my bad.” 

“No, it’s mine. I should’ve, well, I should’ve been watching the time,” she murmured. It was a half-assed answer, and only a fraction of the blame that she deserved. 

“Do you want me to maybe escort you back?” So sweet, _too_ sweet. How could she ever forgive herself for taking advantage of him? Christ, she deserved the punishment of a thousand hells for all she’d put him through. 

“I-” she started, glancing over at him. His posture was stiff, but concern softened his face. She doubted she’d ever wanted Jason more than in that moment, when she knew she had to let him go. “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t sure if it was an answer to his question or to her own internal debate. 

“You- you don’t know.” It was clear that Jason meant it as a question—of course he would be confused by her answer—but it came out more like a statement. The far-way look in his eyes betrayed that he was just as lost in thought as she was. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a bit of a- a long night.” That was a lie. She knew it and she knew he did too. 

His hand reached out to pat her shoulder—why did he have to be so damn kind all the time?—but stopped halfway between them. “I’m. . . sorry to hear that.”

The silence, the _awkwardness_ , between them was terrible; her toes curled in her heels. Even with the heavy shadows over his face, disappointment and worry were clearly written over Jason’s face. She had to make this better somehow. 

“Jason, you’ve got to know that I want you.”

Her face burned at the bluntness of her words. It wasn’t a full confession like he deserved per se, but it at least conveyed a fraction of what she felt for him. 

“Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than it was before and his eyes blown wide. Hesitantly, his hands found her waist again, holding her so softly that if she didn’t focus on the feeling, she wouldn’t have known his hands were there at all. 

She swallowed, knowing she had just dug her own grave. “Yeah.”

“How- how exactly do you want me?” 

An innocent enough question, and one that she could try to answer with a million different words and yet never fully tell him how much she loved him. 

“Well-”

A deep voice cleared its throat. She jumped away from Jason and saw Bruce _fucking_ Wayne, glaring hard. His harsh gaze wasn’t directed at her ( _Thank God_ ) but instead at Jason _(oh,_ _fuck_ ). “Jason.”

“Bruce,” he returned coldly. One of his hands found her lower back. 

“I thought that we had an agreement that you would stay out of the public eye?” Bruce asked in a tone that suggested their _agreement_ was more of a _mandate_. “And now you’re distracting her from doing her job?”

Jason didn’t take his hand away from the small of her back, instead, pressing there harder as if to ground himself. “I figured since you make Dick, Tim, and Damian come to these sorts of things, I might as well come, too. Unless you don’t consider me as part of the family anymore?”

She winced at that particular jab. Even though she knew Bruce and Jason often disagreed (that was putting it lightly), she knew that Bruce still thought of him as his son. Jason was doing this to pick a fight; maybe out of frustration at being interrupted, maybe from years of escalating tensions despite their common goal, or, more likely, maybe out of a combination of the two. 

“You know that that isn’t the case,” Bruce said. Without any emotion other than sternness, in typical Wayne fashion. Maybe if he got his head out of his ass and started acting more compassionately, Jason wouldn’t think his father hated him. 

“He was just trying to help, Bruce,” she tried. Her voice was too soft and the words too cautious. Jason’s hand jumped against her back, like he hadn’t expected her to defend him and like he didn’t _want_ her to. 

Bruce, on the other hand, directed his schooled gaze on her. “Help _how_? He’s potentially exposed the family by coming here. If someone connected the dots, where would that leave the rest of us?” 

“I’m just saying that maybe you two should-”

“Considering you’re the one who deserted your station, your performance tonight had been equally endangering.” His voice, curt and sharp, grated against her skin. She didn’t wince, though (even though she really wanted to) because the only thing that Bruce hated more than people who didn’t do their jobs was people who didn’t do their jobs and didn’t accept the necessary blame. 

“Don’t bring her into this, Bruce. This is between you and I—it always has been.” Jason’s fingers shook against her skin. Whether it was from anger or fear or some terrible mixture of the two, she didn’t know. 

“It’s between all three of us at this point,” Bruce said. The cool look in his eyes that screamed _control freak_ glanced between her and Jason. 

Jason’s voice bit out, “No, it’s just between _you_ and _I_.”

“Jay- Jason,” she said, internally cursing the shakiness of her voice. “If anything, it’s all my fault. I- I should’ve made it clearer that I, well, I wasn’t allowed to bring a plus-one, and I did also shirk my responsibilities.”

“Don’t fall for his fucking guilt trip,” Jason snarled. This time she did wince, the shudder wracking through her body and hunching her shoulders. When he noticed this, he said in a softer tone, “Sorry, sweetheart, I- I’m not angry at you.”

Bruce didn’t wait for her to respond. “Now isn’t the time for this, you two. Jason, I want you out of here, right now.” 

That calm, that sweetness, that softness of Jason’s voice? Gone in an instant at Bruce’s harsh words. “Fuck off.”

“I mean it, Jason.” Bruce’s brow furrowed as he finally showed some semblance of emotion outside of detachment. “If you stay here and if someone recognizes you, we’re all done for.”

She was at war with herself. If she sided with Bruce, then Jason would undoubtedly hate her, or maybe even himself; if she continued to side with Jason, however, she risked her job and her good name by the Dark Knight. A personal relationship against an occupational benefit. 

There might be a middle ground, in which she could play the mediator to both without losing either option? She decided it was better than keeping silent. “Maybe if we have a calm conversation about this-”

“It was never gonna be ‘calm’ when _Bruce_ here decided to kick me out of the fucking family,” Jason’s voice bit out. She recoiled, but only slightly, knowing that his anger wasn’t completely directed at her, but at his former father instead. 

“I never kicked you out of the family,” Bruce replied. He had miraculously reined in all of his previous annoyance. 

“Right,” Jason said with a voice brimming with sarcasm. He took a step closer to Bruce, his hand leaving her back. “Because saying ‘I don’t want you at family events anymore’ _isn’t_ exactly like saying ‘I don’t want you in the family.’”

“Jay,” she attempted to soothe, brushing her hand over his tensed arm. His shoulders slackened, but only half an inch. The rest of him was still wound up too tightly. 

Bruce’s scowl deepened. Dread settled in her stomach like a ton of cement. “Jason, we’ve tried to invite you to the Manor-”

“So you can yell at me and compare me to your _actual_ sons.”

She winced. “Jason, maybe we should go home-”

“No! No, let's fucking hear Bruce out.” She jumped at the sharpness of his voice, her hand slipping from his shoulder. 

“You aren’t listening, Jason,” Bruce tried again. Something heavy, not anger or hate but more like mourning, settled in his tone. “I don’t want you at these events because it could put the others at risk. If we’re found out, that’s dozens, if not hundreds, of people in danger.”

And Bruce was right. She understood that, and judging from his silence, so did Jason. 

The sneer on his face warped sharp shadows over his skin. He turned on his heel as if to storm away, but when he saw her, his scowl lessened. It was almost like he was asking her, _begging_ her to come with him, but the way his forehead twisted up a second later made it obvious that he didn’t expect her to. That hurt more than any verbal or physical lashing she’d ever received in her life. A steady ache settled in her chest, right where her heart was. 

He left without another word. 

“Care to explain yourself?” Bruce asked. Now that Jay was out of the mix, it was time for her own scolding. 

“I- I was being irresponsible,” she said. 

She wanted to crush her hands into fists and she wanted to yell at him and she wanted to do everything in her power to tell Bruce that she was fucking upset with him for treating his _son_ like an outsider to his face and yet attempting to smooth things over when Jason wasn’t present. But she couldn’t, not completely, and not without getting her ass handed to her on a silver platter. 

His voice was as steely as ever, though she might have also heard an underlying tiredness weaving in it as well. “You left your post—left the guests _open_ to harm—and all to just play hooky with Jason. Do you know how many people you’ve _endangered_ by doing this?”

“I’m sorry.” That was all she could really manage at the moment. 

A part of her wanted to blame Selina, because, well, this entire mess had been her fault to begin with, but that wouldn’t exactly be fair. _She_ was still the one who followed her advice, just like she was still the one who let her selfish desires get in the way of hers, and others’ well-being. 

Therefore, she _should_ be pleading with Bruce to give her another chance at redemption to save her own professional vigilante image, as well as to own up to her obvious mistakes, right? 

On paper, that made sense. But in her head, in her heart? She couldn’t give up Jason, not in a million years. Which was fucking stupid; he had made it clear that he didn’t have feelings for her and that this was _thing_ between them was just them fooling around. Why the hell was she holding onto false hope when she should just be letting go? 

Bruce continued to stare at her in that collected way of his, like he was running through a mental checklist of all her weaknesses so as to determine the quickest way of taking her down. 

She grit her jaw at the calculating expression on his face. Jason was her friend, first and foremost. He was someone she cared about. That meant that even if it killed her, even if it ruined her life, even if it took everything she held dear in her pathetic existence, she would fight by his side. 

She bit her lip, glancing down behind her at the hallway that Jason had stomped down. He was long gone, but the image of his slumped shoulders haunted her. She had to find him before it was too late. 

“Well. . . .” She winced at the way her voice trailed off, and at the way she sounded so unsure of herself. _What happened to conviction, woman?_ she chastised herself. 

“Well?” Bruce asked her. His patience had been worn completely threadbare. 

She’d leave this stupid gala, but not without finalizing what she could of her job. Bruce favored professionalism, right? She would be professional as hell before she booked it right on out of there. Then maybe he wouldn’t have anything to bitch about. 

“I’ve been doing scans of the room for the past three hours. Only two men were suspicious in that they weren’t on the guest list. I told security and haven’t since seen them—my guess is that they’re reporters considering they didn’t have any weapons on them. Everyone else here is clean.” A terse report, mainly because her eyes kept darting over to the exit where Jason left. 

This seemed to catch him off guard, if the slight raise of his eyebrows was any indication. “Anything else?”

“I’ll submit a formal report regarding the intel I gathered by tomorrow night. As much as I appreciate you considering me for this, you can keep the money,” she said. Her voice shook slightly—she was talking back to fucking Batman, what else would you expect?—but she sounded sure enough. 

“You’re not staying?” he asked. She couldn’t decipher his voice—it sounded like an odd mixture between acceptance and disapproval. 

“No, I forgot that I have a previous commitment planned for tonight.” ‘ _Dying just a little bit more as I get rejected by the love of my life, that is_.’ Not that she’d ever say that to Batman, but the thought was cynical enough to lessen the sting of reality. 

“I see.” 

She met his gaze, trying to discern what emotions his eyes held. He must’ve guessed something about their little arrangement—seeing them so close together in a darkened hallway, with Jason’s hands rested on her waist was evidence enough of their little liaison—yet he didn’t betray what exactly he thought of it. 

She saw the figure of a woman, silhouetted in the buttery light of the ballroom, saunter closer. Selina. She laughed in that way of hers that enchanted everyone in the room, though it had little effect on Bruce. “There you are, Bat, I was getting worried.”

“I was dealing with someone,” Bruce said. It was terse and full of frustration, and she wondered why the hell someone like Selina would put up with him. 

Selina’s eyes glanced at her, and her eyebrows raised. Between her relatively disheveled hair and Jason gone, she figured Selina had connected the dots already. “Is that so?”

“It wasn’t- I didn’t handle it well,” Bruce conceded. 

Ah, that was why Selina stuck around; when he needed to, he could actually get his head out of his ass and admit when he was wrong. 

“Next time will be better,” Selina said. She placed a delicately gloves hand on his shoulder as if to soothe him. 

It was, well, it was weird to see them so vulnerable. She was very much an outsider in the conversation now, looking in on the vulnerability of two people from behind glass. As fascinating as it was, she had her own vulnerable boy to comfort. 

“I assume I’m dismissed?” she asked in a quiet voice. 

While she had previously stood her ground, her latest interjection was definitely more passive. She figured she owed Batman a break despite his horrendous treatment of Jason; as shitty a father as he was, he still _cared_ more than Jay gave him credit for. Just this once she’d let this kind of behavior slide without any other act of defiance. 

It seemed Bruce felt the same way. He nodded but didn’t say anything. He was lost in thought, undoubtedly going over all the things he’d said and all the things Jason had said to him. 

She turned on her heel, starting to walk in long, sure strides to where she saw Jason disappear to. 


	8. A Climactic Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just gotta rewrite a chapter until you're happy with it; it took me a long time to get there (sorry for that, by the way), but it's finally here. Currently, this is the fourth draft; I wanted to end the story here, but the pacing was a bit off, hence the plan for a ninth chapter. I'm so sorry once again for the long wait. I hope you folks enjoy!

Jason was pissed out of his fucking mind, and he had absolutely _no right_ to be. 

He was there to pleasure her, he was there to _worship_ her, not the other way around. She didn’t owe him a goddamn thing, especially when she was the one who allowed him to be with her, however finite a time that was. He should be happy for any fleeting contact he got and he definitely _shouldn’t_ be acting like a toddler throwing a fit just because their night had been cut short. 

Those thoughts, however quick and sharp within his rational mind, did little to temper his anger. Jason seethed as he stormed through the throngs of people in the gala, his eyes never leaving the direction of the exit. He couldn’t reach it fast enough. 

The biting winter air failed to offer any reassuring and numbing cold. How could it, when rage pulled him in one direction and frustration in another and want in yet another? Jason was adrift in his head, adrift in _her._

Christ, he couldn’t get her out of his head even though he knew he should. 

She was so beautiful it physically hurt to look at her and not be touching her or talking to her or _being_ with her. The second he’d walked into that stupid gala and his eyes had found her instantly by some divine magic, he knew he was screwed. 

He had wanted to approach her, to begin with the flirting and the prospect of leaving for a bed early so that they could get out of there fast because hell, his pants were already uncomfortably tight with just one torturous look up that long leg of hers peeking out from the slit of of that dress. 

Jason had wanted to get her as wet as he was hard, but every time he got close, she continued to move, or else was talking to someone new; every single goddamn time he finally caught a whiff of her intoxicating perfume, she wouldn’t be anywhere near him. Her body wasn’t in the same spot as the second before, instead somewhere that seemed miles away, and she’d just send him a coy smile over her luscious shoulder ( _fuck_ , he wanted to bite the skin there) like he wasn’t fucking foaming at the mouth for her. 

He’d tried to play it cool, tried to seem like he was giving her a fighting chance at control over their little situation, tried to match the suave and sexy smile that she wore just to make himself seem a little less pitiful, but it hadn’t worked. He wanted her too much, he _needed_ her too much. She knew what she was doing, and Jason somehow hadn’t minded being all hot and bothered if it meant eventual release. 

That being said, a part of him had seriously considered throwing her over his shoulder when he eventually caught up to her and taking her back home, regardless of the scene it would cause. 

Hot fury and desperate lust, like he’d never felt before, burned in his veins. Jason needed release, whether it be punching any drunk idiot who happened to pick a fight with him or slipping into some diner’s bathroom and jerking himself off until he came with her name on his lips. He ran a harsh hand through his hair, ruffling the locks he’d meticulously tamed with product two hours before. 

He was a mess. For her. Always and forever for her. 

She looked fucking gorgeous in black, too—of course the entire male fucking population of the party would _want_ her. It wasn’t her goddamn fault she was so pretty and smart and likable and witty and lovely. She couldn’t help that, and other people had fucking _eyes_ , so of course they’d see how amazing she was. Hell, they’d be stupid not to.

So then why was he still so fucking _jealous_?

Christ. That blond guy had been eyeing her like a piece of meat the entire night—Jason had also been rather watchful of her, in all honesty, but he at least had a reason to, considering he would be the one (hopefully) tearing that dress off of her. He knew it was only a matter of time before the guy got drunk enough to ask her to do something, and he had wanted to intervene before he did that because Jason was a fucking jealous dog in heat around her. 

But then she kept _dancing away from him_ like a fucking _nymph_. 

He had half the mind to steal away with her to some darkened, empty utility closet and mark up her neck and shoulders and back and thighs so that when she went back fucking out, everyone would know she was someone else’s. The mere thought of her covered head to toe in _his_ love bites in _that_ dress for everybody else to _see_ made his cock ache with need. 

Jason tugged at his tie hard enough to choke himself. It came undone just barely, lessening the chokehold it had on him, though the act offered little mitigation beyond that. He was still shackled to her, and yet she didn’t belong to him. Not in the slightest. Even in the goddamn universe where she actually returned his affections, she _still_ wouldn’t belong to him. He needed to get it _out of his fucking mind_ that she ever had or ever would. 

“Fuck,” he said and yanked his lapel back. Fumbling around in the pocket there, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes and the lighter he’d hesitantly put in before leaving for the gala. What had previously been a pesky matter of habit was now something he was infinitely grateful for. Shoving a cigarette between his lips, he mouthed around it, “She isn’t fucking _yours_ , dumbass.” 

He lit it, dragging in the ashy flavor for some kind of relief. It provided little. 

Jason remembered the end of their little exchange, remembered how fucking close he’d been to finishing and how close she’d been too—then he remembered the way she stiffened against him so suddenly, like he’d become repulsive in the span of a millisecond. She’d pulled away, _pushed him away_ , and with a half-assed excuse like he wouldn’t possibly understand any other goddamn reason for her newfound coldness.

There was a horror in her eyes that haunted him—a kind of his own potent fear had streaked through him at the idea of being caught loving her. He’d almost confessed the true depth of his feelings right then and there out of sheer guilt. 

Maybe she had just realized how shitty of a person he was? Maybe she had been struck by some malevolent god with utter hatred for him? Maybe she had figured out that his trembling fingers and worshipful kisses and complete and utter need meant that he loved her, and that she didn’t love him back?

She couldn’t hate him, right? If she found out he loved her, she wouldn’t- wouldn’t want to leave him forever, _right_? She’d understand, maybe even accept it, even when there was no way she could return his affections. Jason couldn’t lose her. 

His head spiraled as he sucked in another smoky breath. He couldn’t lose her, _he couldn’t lose her_. Even if it fucking meant taking the crowbar and dying again, he couldn’t lose her. 

_What about what she said at the end?_ A timid— _stupid_ , more like—voice in his head asked. He believed the thought to be stupid purely because it suggested something even the least bit hopeful. Jason wasn’t that fucking lucky, but it got him thinking. 

‘ _Jason, you’ve got to know that I want you_.’ 

That’s what she’d said. That’s what she had so carelessly murmured into the quiet hallway, like whatever the fuck else she said after that wouldn’t welcome him to fucking heaven or drag him to the depths of hell. 

She. . . wanted him, which was good. With everything that had happened in his two godforsaken lives, it was practically a godsend. But Jason, the goddamn selfish bastard he was, wanted more from her—he wanted her to want him the way he wanted her: passionately, endlessly, _lovingly_. He doubted he’d actually get it, but of course he wouldn’t know until she rejected him outright. 

Jason probably would have received some much-needed closure had they not been interrupted- 

Fucking _Bruce_. God, of course Bruce would come in when they were hitting it off and he was finally able to release some of his pent up frustrations and she was finally giving him a goddamn idea about how she really felt. Her hot skin had felt so fucking good against his own, and the desperate, flushed look that so prettily coated her face was absolutely breathtaking. But no, _Bruce_ had to come in and kick him the fuck out. Cock-blocked by his ex-Dad—what a fucking time to be alive. 

During their brief interception, she had attempted to take the middle route, though even he knew she was itching to take Bruce’s side. The only reason she had jumped in was to make sure nothing too brash happened that ruined Mr. Philanthropist’s stunning reputation. 

Even if she wanted to take Jason’s side, she wouldn’t. She was honor bound, and seemed to respect Bruce. Unlike Jason, she had pretty traditional morals, so it wasn’t like she could just say _no_ to fucking _Batman_ , even on the off chance that she really wanted to. Which meant he was going to be alone for most of the night, if not all of it; not just that, but she’d be in there, with other men approaching her, and he wouldn’t be able to step in and _stop them_ _by any means possible_. 

Their perfect night had just been vaporized into useless ash. Every one of the fucking precautions Jason had taken—mainly making sure Roy wouldn’t be home—were all for naught. And all because of himself, because he loved her, because he couldn’t control himself. 

Jason was losing it. 

He needed her. _He needed her_. Not just because the sex was amazing but because she made him feel so goddamn alive. Fucking Christ, he was such a sad sack of shit; it was like a second without her by his side and he was drowning. 

He needed a way out, or rather, he needed to provide a way out for her, seeing as Jason was letting his shitty fucking feelings get in the way of her potential joy. He belonged to her in every sense of the word, but it would kill him if he so forcefully bound her to himself. Even if he never broke through the waves of adoration he held for her ever again, he would be content if she was free to pursue her own actual happiness. 

Tonight, he’d find a way to tell her. It might break up their friendship, it might even fucking kill him, but she deserved to know, and Jason needed to let her know so that maybe he could move on (who the hell was he kidding? The probability of that was zero). 

He’d tell her his terrible secret sweetly, maybe after giving her the best goddamn orgasms of her life, and if she was pissed with him, then he’d do anything to plead for forgiveness. 

_No_ , he chastised himself. _If she hates you, if she wants you out of her life, you’ve got to leave. For her sake. Just- just think of someone other than yourself for once in your goddamn life, you absolute fucking asshole_ -

The cigarette between his lips was plucked away out of nowhere. He spun, ready to fight whoever the fuck thought they had the authority to take his nicotine at a time like this, and came face to face with _her_. 

She raised an eyebrow curiously, eyes glancing between him and the smoking cigarette still in her hand. Playfulness lightened her cadence. “Thought you were quitting, Mr. Todd?” 

“Why are you out here?” he asked in a low voice. A thick lump in his throat—maybe from arousal, maybe from anger—warbled up the words. He was pissed but he wasn’t pissed at _her_ so then why the fuck was he lashing out at her?

She didn’t acknowledge his thinly-veiled anger. Instead, she dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of her high heel—Jason momentarily mourned its loss, until he saw her leg through the slit of her dress again and bit back a moan instead. 

“Oh, y’know, I had to make sure there wasn’t some kind of civil disobedience or other anarchic activity happening.”

He grit his jaw, somewhere between begging her to stay with him forever and yelling at her to just leave him already, like he knew she would. Jason managed to bite out, “You- you shouldn’t be here with me.”

“Since when have I ever played by the rules, Jay?” She was still smiling like she wasn’t building him up just to knock him down; and still his fucking heart continued to ache for her, like the sting of her inevitable disgust and rejection of him wouldn’t be his second death. 

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

The cheerfulness hadn’t left her voice, but there was a severity in it that told him just how faithful to her word she was. As unyielding as ever. He wouldn’t ever be able to give her up if she kept acting like she actually loved him back. 

“Just get the fuck back inside.” Jason didn’t know why he was fucking pushing her away but he couldn’t _stop_. She rolled her eyes at his little tantrum. 

“That’s going to be kind of hard, Jay,” she chuckled, lacing an arm around his before starting to lead him down the street. _Away_ from the gala. All of his fucking frustration evaporated with that single action, and he cursed himself for being so weak for her. “Considering I just told B that the perimeter was clear and that I had other engagements to attend to for the night.”

He looked at her with wide eyes. “What?” 

“Yeah, I decided to call it quits.” She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and like she wasn’t his fucking savior for doing it. 

“What about the- didn’t you need the money?” he asked, dumbfounded. 

“Jason, it’s just money,” she said and shot him a confused look. “Besides, you looked like you needed someone, and you’ll always come first no matter what.”

Jason stopped in place, his eyes glued to her. Even in the dim lights of Gotham, she looked gorgeous, and he could just make out the hint of red on her lips and the blush on her cheeks from the cold. Her eyes regarded him coyly. 

“I’m going to kiss you right now.”

She snorted and raised an eyebrow. “How romantic of you to announce it-”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to finish the thought. Cupping his unoccupied hand around her cold cheek—Jason cursed winter out in his head with every foul word he knew—he pressed his lips against hers. She smiled against him (fuck, there went his heart) and laced her fingers into his hair.

Lightly, he bit her lip, asking for permission because hell, he needed _more_ of her. When she opened her mouth, hell, Jason was a goner. The champagne she’d had before bubbled onto his tongue tartly, sweetened only by her own lips. He moaned and slanted his mouth over hers just to get more of the taste. 

Her hands moved down to the crooked, wrinkled collar of his dress shirt, curling around it and pulling him further in. _Shit_ , he loved her—he doubted that he would ever stop, too. Jason separated their lips just to feel her desperate breath against him—the three seconds was too much time away from her, and he brushed his lips over her jaw instead just to keep _touching_ her. 

“Jason, we’re out in the open,” she chuckled as he mouthed down her neck, though those chuckles quickly trailed off into gentle gasps. He nipped at her jaw just to keep her breathing labored like that. 

“Love,” he murmured against her heavenly skin. She drove him wild with the way she sucked in a quick lungful of air. “Considering the amount of times I thought of taking you in that ballroom alone, being out in the open is hardly a concern for me anymore.”

Giggling, she palmed his erection and he had to stop kissing her neck because fuck, after a night of mostly blue-balling it, the slight contact felt fucking fantastic. He bucked into her hand. “You’re so goddamn horny all the time.”

“Like you aren’t,” he huffed. 

Gaining enough wits to begin brushing his mouth over her neck again, Jason roughly held her ass. The skin in his hungry palms was hot, despite being covered in cool silk and despite the frigid air. 

She barked out a laugh, loudly, like she had mid-dance with that blond bastard—Jason’s stomach twisted up in anger once more—before saying in his ear, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Jay: my panties? Fucking soaked.”

Jason couldn’t stop the mewl humming into her skin even if he tried. “ _Sweetheart_.”

“That’s not even counting how much I’m _aching_ for you right now.” He retracted ever so slightly and saw that her gorgeous eyes were hooded by silky lids. She bit her lip, and Jason was reminded for the three-thousandth time that night how much he loved red lipstick on her. “Fuck, I need you.”

“Shit-”

“When you pinned me up against the wall? Hell, Jason, I was so fucking tempted to let you take me right there.” She crushed her mouth into a thin line, her gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips. Her fingertips just barely ghosted over the band of his trousers, teasing the flushed skin of his stomach. 

She wasn’t mentioning how she had pushed him away, or how goddamn hesitant she had been towards the end of their little liaison. Somehow, Jason didn’t give a damn, so long as she kept speaking to him with that pretty voice of hers and touching him so sweetly. 

Lowly, so low it came from his throat and his throat alone, he warned, “Angel, another word and I’m bringing us to the nearest alley because _I can’t wait anymore_.” 

And he meant it. His fucking cock pressed against the confines of his trousers to the point where it hurt; it begged to be released and choked by her heat instead. 

“Christ, Jason-” she started breathlessly. Jason picked her up immediately. 

“ _That’s it_.” 

“Jay!” she shrieked, laughing as he pressed her up against the brick of the nearest building and away from any prying eyes. “Jason, don’t you dare.”

He gulped, latching onto the skin above her jugular for just a minute. Christ, he was drunk off of the pulse blooming onto his tongue and he’d barely even tasted it yet. “I warned you, didn’t I? ‘Another word,’ I told you, and then you went and said _two_.”

“ _Jason_ ,” she gasped. He wanted her to keep saying his name like that: breathlessly, slowly, like she adored it. 

“Yes, love?”

“If you wait until we get back to the apartment, you’ll get a surprise.” Jason paused, his lips hovering over her skin, thinking it over and trying not to let the throbbing of his cock influence the decision. 

Fuck, it was hard though (because he was too). “What- What kind of surprise?”

“The whole point of a surprise is that you don’t know what it is,” she teased.

“How will I know if the surprise is worth not just fucking you right here, right now?” He watched as her lovely little throat swallowed at his crude words. Fuck, he imagined her swallowing his cum, her lips still glossy from her saliva, lipstick smudged ever so slightly—Jason swore his pants would fucking rip from how aroused he was. He really was a beast when it came to her. 

A soft but seductive smile tugged the corners of her red mouth up. “It involves me riding you until your cock is completely milked.”

“ _Fuck_.” The curse tore through Jason’s throat as he pictured her pretty breasts bouncing and his hands on her hips and her head thrown back and her grinding onto his cock long after they’ve both cum and _shit_ , if he could wait, it would be well worth it. “Christ, okay.”

Slowly, regretfully, he eased her back down so that her heeled feet touched the ground—he was reminded how fucking good her legs looked in stilettos and almost pushed her back up again. 

“I’m surprised that actually worked,” she said with a smug grin. Jason wanted to kiss that stupidly beautiful look off her face. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, smoothing his hair back in an attempt to rein in his utter want for her (however fruitless that would inevitably prove to be). “It’s kind of hard not to take the offer when it’s you _riding_ me.” 

He wanted to keep touching her, wanted to hold her hand like he had on the way back from her interview, but the pain from his failure earlier in the night still stung; he made no move to grab her hand even when it looked so lonely without his.

She chuckled and traced up his arm with a light kind of caress that sent shivers echoing through his body. It was almost like she _didn’t_ know how much he fucking adored her. “Is that so?”

“The offer to take you right now still stands, angel.” That was a warning, coarse and dark, and he loved the little surprised raise of her eyebrows and the broadening of her grin as she completely threw caution to the wind. 

“Oh, I know, I just enjoy riling you up,” she said. The tenderness of her gaze, somehow soft and sultry at the same time, utterly bewitched him. Her red lips curled at what he assumed was a particularly impish thought. With a quick wink, she added, “It translates quite nicely when you fuck me.”

“Christ, I love-” his throat choked up mid-confession, “-I love it when you talk like that.”

The confidence she’d donned so prettily before faltered, maybe because she had known what he had almost said and _hated it_. “Glad to hear it.”

Her voice sounded off. Flat. Pained, even. Jason’s stomach twisted and fell—so did his heart. All thoughts of telling her tumbled from his sorry head. How could he, when she was looking at him like that? Fuck, he was a piece of shit. A second later Jason realized that even that fear was selfish of him; she deserved the right to hate him, right? 

Jason had to tell her, ideally by the end of the night. Maybe he’d do it when they collapsed into a naked embrace, spent from making love, drowsy from exertion, so that his sudden profession wouldn’t startle her into complete disdain for him. 

Even that wasn’t fair to her. He shouldn’t fucking try to trick her into something he knew she wouldn’t want. Shit, he was a scumbag. 

He tramped numbly along, a slave to those terrible thoughts just as much as he was a slave to her. The walking pace they’d settled into was comfortable, though too slow in that it prolonged both their ability to _properly_ touch each other and the restless quiet that held their mouths hostage. 

Her previous words haunted him once more: ‘ _Jason, you’ve got to know that I want you_.’ Then, not three minutes ago, when he had her pinned against a wall, ready to give her the sun and the moon and every star in the sky, she’d said ‘ _I need you_ ,’ in the most breathless tone imaginable. 

Somehow he couldn’t stop replaying those admissions in his head. He fiddled with the hem of his tuxedo jacket each time he allowed his flickering hope to become buoyed by those dreadfully wonderful phrases; if he didn’t keep his hands occupied, he was sure that he’d make some idiotic move to touch or hold her in a way that betrayed his true love for her. 

Jason wet his lips. He wanted nothing more than to bring up their previously neglected conversation. Specifically, he wanted to ask ‘ _Exactly how the fuck do you want me?_ ’ so he knew whether to praise God or pray to just be struck down by heavenly fire already. 

But he couldn’t—how could he? The moment was ruined and it was selfish as all hell. He didn’t deserve to know, even though the not knowing would probably twist his insides into a tangle of tight knots. 

“Have I- have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” Jason said to break up the silence that had settled between them.

Her eyes darted up to his. She hummed, faking thinking. “No, I don’t believe you have, actually.”

“I’m a fool, then.” ‘ _A fool for you_.’ Yeah, like he could say that. 

“That might be true,” she flashed a conspiratorial wink his way, “But I think we’ve all played the part of the fool at some point in our lives.”

“I don’t think you could ever be a fool, angel,” he said. 

She nudged him with her elbow. Jason fought the urge to just crush her into a tight hug and never let go. “You obviously haven’t been paying very close attention to me, then, Jason.”

‘ _You’re the only person I see. In a room filled with a thousand fucking people, my eyes will always find you first_.’ Jason could say that, he could say that and watch the love of his life calmly walk away from him. 

Instead, he opted for a more neutral response. “Trust me, I have. Like I said before, you’re beautiful.”

“I see,” she said. Once again, something in her just sort of deflated, and Jason kicked himself for making her feel so uncomfortable. 

“You- you see?”

Did she see that he loved her? Did she see that he would gladly give his life up for her? Did she see that he saw his entire future with her? Did she see-

“You only like me because I’m a pretty face.” She phrased it like a joke, though there was a dullness in her voice that suggested she believed that was all he really thought of her. 

Jason stopped in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. Just- just _staring_ at her. She took two more steps before she stopped with him, and when she finally turned to face him, he couldn’t read exactly what she was thinking. 

“Never,” he said. 

“Never?”

“You’ll never be just a pretty face to me,” Jason said. He stepped until he stood right up against her, clasping her hands in his own. “I really do- I really do enjoy your company, because you’re witty and a pleasure to talk to and just- you’re just so wonderful to be around. You’ve got to know that, okay?”

If only he could’ve taken a picture of her face after he’d said that—eyes stitched with the heavens, skin polished in the city’s glow, her mouth shaped more lovingly than one of Eden’s roses—because hell, it made him fall in love with her all over again. 

He didn’t really have the time to, though, because in a second, the look was gone, and in another, her lips were pressed against his. In the kiss, Jason still felt the undercurrent of lust that flowed between them, but it was sweeter than fresh dew glittering on spring clovers, and he melted into her without a thought of how careless that almost-confession was or how stupid he was for thinking he’d have a happy ending with her. 

She pulled away far too soon—he wished they could’ve stayed suspended in that moment forever—though the slight smile she sent his way more than made up for it. “Thanks, Jay. I really love spending time with you, too.”

“I-” his voice was hoarse with want as he struggled against those three forbidden words forever stuck in his throat, “I’m glad.” 

“Shall we, um, continue to head back now?” The precious shyness of her posture and voice was like watching a cool summer dawn break over an ink-blown world: absolutely divine. 

“Yeah.” That was all he could really say when she looked at him like that. 

One of her hands let go of his, but the other stayed. He squeezed it to keep her there with him forever before she began dragging him in the direction of the apartment. “Let’s go then.”

“Oh- okay,” he said dumbly. Jason couldn’t feel his feet or the rest of his body, save for his fingers clasped with hers. Her hand was cold, but he hoped it’d be warm soon from his own.

Walking through Gotham while holding hands with the love of his life was something Jason never thought would happen. Sure, there was that time midday after her job interview when they had held chilled hands amidst the bitter cold, but that was somehow different from this current circumstance. 

Where that had been under the guise of helpful friendliness (at least, that’s how Jason had wanted her to see it so she didn’t utterly despise him), there was no such platonic prompt for the way she held onto him now. There wasn’t the premise that it was just to keep their hands warm, or to stick together in the crowds—it could have been him projecting his desires onto her body language, but he swore the blush that ruddied up her cheeks might have been genuine, dare he say, affection. 

Jason shouldn’t have let the idea of her loving him lighten his steps or free his pulse or brighten the city lights so much—at the same time, how could he not? The idea of her wanting to be with him was as pure a dream of heaven as any. He knew it was stupid, knew that he was just building himself up only to be inevitably knocked down, yet couldn’t shake the grin from his face. 

“I’m sorry about before, Jason,” she murmured. 

“For what?” He didn’t know what the hell she could possibly be apologizing for considering she had ditched the gala for him and was currently holding his hand. 

She bit her lip and Jason wanted to kiss her to the stars and back. “For what happened back with B. I should’ve- I should’ve butted in to help you more.”

So they were talking about Bruce again, along with its entire conflict. He sighed. It wasn’t exactly what he’d call foreplay, but a little selfish part of him was kind of happy to know that she had wanted to take his side. 

“You were focused on damage control,” he reasoned. His thumb traced little circles into the back of her hand. In an attempt to deflect her self-blame, Jason’s mind raced, then stopped, then spiraled. “If anything, I should be apologizing for putting you into that situation, and then for making you feel like you had to leave for me.”

The red blush over her skin darkened again, though this time it wasn’t from what he prayed was adoration and instead from what he assumed was anger. “Don’t you dare go taking the blame for yourself when you’re innocent.”

That was wrong. That was so completely and utterly wrong that his entire body felt heavy with guilt. How could she think so much of him when he was so little? His grip on her hand loosened. He shouldn’t- he shouldn’t even be touching her.

“I’m hardly innocent.” 

“Jason-”

“I mean it. I’m not a good person.” His voice wavered and he hated how fucking weak he sounded. 

She was getting angry. He could tell because her brow wrinkled and a steady frown carved her mouth downwards. “Get out of here with that bullshit.” 

“It’s not bullshit. Half the time I’m with you, I wonder how someone as good as you can want to hang out with someone as shitty as me,” he said. 

With his free hand, he tugged at his hair; Jason stared off into the middle distance, his eyes heavy and warm with tears. Fuck, he was stupid for thinking he could get through the rest of the night emotionally unscathed—he couldn’t, not in a million years, and not when he was so twisted up with love for her and hatred for himself. 

“Jason Peter Todd,” she said in that no-nonsense way of hers. “You aren’t a shitty person, just like I’m not the perfect angel you think I am. We’ve got our own flaws, for sure, but that doesn’t make you any less of someone who deserves love.”

 _Love_. 

That word thudded through him in one dreadfully blissful beat of his heart. It echoed around his sorry body and bled into his skin. She tensed, and he wondered if she felt that word reverberate in their clasped fingertips. 

His ears burned. “I- I still don’t think that’s right, though.”

“Why on earth do you not think that it’s right?” 

“It’s just- I’m not-” his voice cracked, “I’m not worth it, not with all of the shit I’ve done. I’m not— _I’m not_. And I’m definitely not worth _you_.”

“You’re right, because you’re worth the sun. Hell, a _thousand_ suns.” A compassionate yet steadfast determination weighed down her words. Her fingers clenched around his, and he felt her gaze branding the right side of his face. 

Jason didn’t say anything. Even though he desperately wanted to protest, wanted to scream and wail and cry to convince her that she _shouldn’t_ ever even want to love him, he didn’t say a word. Gravity finally pulled the tears that clustered on his eyelashes down. He coughed and looked away and brushed them off his frozen cheeks with his free hand, praying she didn’t notice. 

“Jason,” she said. Their pace had slowed to a meager shuffle. “I- I care about you. A lot. So, so much.”

A bitter ‘ _You shouldn’t_ ,’ burned in his throat, though he didn’t voice it. 

Her shoulder brushed up against his. Somehow it made him feel better and then worse. “And I know that this sort of thing can be difficult. Er, loving yourself, that is. But we- we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse and shaky and not at all like his own. 

“Can you maybe- can you consider being kinder to yourself? For me?” Hope and pleading softened her face. Her voice was so quiet and sweet that Jason swore it would crumble away completely in the harsh cold. 

‘ _For you? Always_ ,’ he wanted to say. “I- yeah.” 

“Thank you,” she squeezed his hand. He grasped back at it hesitantly, afraid that if he pressed too hard she’d disappear and leave him all alone. Fuck, he was eight trillion shades of greed-ridden for her. 

“I don’t- I don’t really want to dwell on what happened tonight,” Jason confessed. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Even when you deserve a million apologies?”

He pursed his lips, but noticed that the air between them had somewhat lightened. It still felt tender when he breathed in, but it didn’t feel like his throat was closing up on something sharp anymore. 

“I’m not even going to acknowledge that,” he murmured. He nudged her shoulder and tapped the back of her hand in a playful manner. “I really don’t want to drag the night down with what happened, honest. It’d be a shame to- to waste any time I get with you alone.”

Her eyes squinted as she mulled the idea over. “If that’s what you really want. Though, well, I’m still going to find a way to make it up to you later.”

Jason didn’t want to owe her anything else. Not when he’d already given up his body and soul to her. He wanted to provide all he could, but seeing as he was already so indebted to her—she let him touch her body, for Christ’s sake—the thought of being even more so at her mercy was downright terrifying. The only thing that was possibly scarier was the large part of him that didn’t mind giving everything he had up for her. 

Jason swallowed back the lump in his throat. It knotted so sharply there he was sure he tasted blood, but he couldn’t dwell on it, not when he needed to make the night special for her and not when she expected a coherent response from him. 

“You’re already going to make it up to me later,” he said in what he prayed was a deep and sexy voice. There was a slight waver to it, but other than that, he seemed to accomplish what he set out to do. “Seeing as you’ve promised to ride me.”

The cautious glimmer in her eyes faltered, replaced instead by a look reserved solely for the bedroom instead. She tugged his hand closer to her, so that their bodies pressed up against each other and his knuckles grazed her hip. Jason grit his jaw. He was gone to her and he didn’t even care all that much anymore. 

“What if I suck you off first thing tomorrow morning, too?” 

“ _Fuck_. Do you- do you mean it?”

He saw her lovely little mouth wrapped around his shaft, those sexy eyes staring up at him, all while they were in her room surrounded by a golden haze of early morning sunshine. The scene was as rapturous as it was arousing. 

“I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

“Shit.” He knew his fingers shook against hers in anticipation (even though deep down he knew that a future together with her, the way he wanted it, was impossible). “That’s too much, sweetheart.”

She pretended to think hard, though the competitive quirk of her lips and raise of her brow indicated she was about to best him. “Or not enough. I could also make breakfast tomorrow?”

“No,” he said as they stopped at a crosswalk. 

“But I want to.” It was a sin how she could look at him with those innocent eyes while talking about how she wanted to give him a blowjob (amongst other favors). 

Jason cleared his throat and tried to ignore the tight throbbing of his cock against his trousers. In a low voice, so as not to alert any passersby, he said, “If you’re sucking me off, then the least I can do is make you breakfast in bed.”

“Glad to see we both agree that I’ll at least be giving you head tomorrow,” she said with a cheeky wink.

 _Damn him_. He was fucked.

“You’re such a- a-!” he stuttered, both incredibly turned on by and incredibly frustrated at being beaten in a battle of wits. 

“Play nice, Jay-darling.” She tugged him across the street because he stupid fucking legs decided to stop working. 

“ _I am_ ,” he protested. “You’re the one that’s playing dirty.”

The grin she so proudly wore drew up a bit more in the corners—she really was annoyingly, _stupidly_ gorgeous. “Trust me when I say I can play a whole lot dirtier.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she could look at him with that wide smile and with that melodic voice and those bewitching eyes and expect him to not fall in love with her that much more. Every single atom in his body was drawn to hers, so much so that Jason was sure he orbited her completely. 

He grit his teeth and attempted to fight the urge to pin her up somewhere private and ravish her. “Fuck, I want you so badly right now.” 

“The feeling’s mutual,” she laughed. 

“ _Christ_.” Each breath he took in was shaky, maybe from want or maybe from fear or maybe from both. 

“Trust me when I say that I want nothing more than to just fuck you somewhere along the way to the apartment.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue as she eyed him. 

Jason couldn’t stop a moan from bubbling up in his throat at the thought. “Why- why don’t you, then?” 

“How does that saying go? ‘All good things to those who wait?’” When she noticed him staring, she flashed a quick wink his way. 

“ _Or_ , we could always fuck _now_ , and then fuck _later_ as well,” Jason suggested. His throbbing cock certainly thought that was a better outcome. 

“I suppose we could,” his hand tightened around hers in anticipation that maybe, _maybe_ he’d finally find some relief and feel her cum around him, “-but I wouldn’t be able to ride you in some alleyway, Jason.”

He swallowed thickly. “I could fuck you now, up against something. Fast- fast and _hard_. And then you could ride me when we get home?”

“Hmm,” she hummed. 

Jason knew she was just dragging out the time it took them to get back, especially with the way she sauntered along so leisurely. Seeing as they were still holding hands, he was forced to slow down too, lest he disconnect their fingers altogether. Which, in Jason’s mind, was a punishment worse than death (and he would know). 

“Please?” 

It was a soft, rumbly sort of plea, and it betrayed just how much he needed her. He’d worry about that later, when his body was exhausted and his heart broken. For now, Jason would bite back his pride just to get everything he could from her. 

That sweet smile sharpened into something wicked. That being said, it still had the same torturous effect on his body. “I’m going to have to say no to that, Jay.”

His response was a quick and whiny, “ _Why_?”

“I like working you up like this, for one,” she chuckled and bumped her hip against his. If he wasn’t so sexually frustrated, Jason may have fully basked in the sheer adorableness of that single action. 

“And for the other reasons?” 

She brought their clasped hands up to her lips and brushed her mouth over his knuckles. Jason stumbled on nothing as his face flushed. “A girl can’t give away _all_ of her secrets.”

“But I want you,” he said in a shaky voice. It was raw and it was heavy and he hated how pathetic it made him sound. He grit his jaw and added, “ _Badly_.”

“I want you, too.” 

“Then just _take me already_.” Jason doubted he could get any needier. Quite frankly, if his pitiful begging meant relief for both him and her, he was willing to plead until he lost his voice. 

“I will,” she said. Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Eventually.”

He ran his tongue over his lips. Thoughts of all the ways she’d previously taken him—sucking his cock, giving him a handjob, mouthing over his neck, dry humping him until they both got off—ricocheted throughout his sorry head. Jason probably shouldn’t have been thinking about all that, considering it was only making him more desperate for her and considering he should be thinking about the softest way to let her know his true feelings; fantasies were much more appealing than the very real consequences of the latter, and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he procrastinated his emotions. 

Out of nowhere, she groaned out a curse. “We’re going to need to keep quiet, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to when I’m riding you.”

The honesty of that particular statement caught him off guard, mainly because it hinted that she’d been as submerged in daydreams as he was. He wondered what kind of things she’d been musing about in that pretty head of hers, and how he could make them her perfect reality. 

“About that,” Jason said, trailing off. His hand squeezed hers. “I may or may not have asked Roy to grab spare helmets from one of our safe houses for me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he said he needed parts for something, which are at the place in New Hampshire.” 

She whistled, sounding impressed. “That’s a six hour drive. When did he leave?”

“‘Bout four hours ago. Hence why I also asked him to also grab some of my helmets from our Maine location, just in case.” He scratched his cheek, more to keep his other hand from touching her inappropriately in such a public setting than from any real itch. 

“I see someone was confident they’d be getting some tonight.” That sultry smile of hers was back. 

“Like you weren’t counting on it, too, sweetheart,” he laughed, tugging her closer to him. Their shoulders brushed, and Jason’s pulse thudded in his throat and in his fingertips and in his lungs at their closeness. 

“I’m just glad I can scream your name to my heart’s content.”

Lust, hot and sharp, streaked through his body. His hand tightened against hers. “Promise you will?”

“Mhmm. Patience, though, Jay-darling,” she reminded him. She didn’t know it, but she controlled the beat of his heart with that term of endearment alone. “We’ve got four more blocks and nine flights of stairs before we can even get _started_.”

He huffed, loosening his bow tie with his free hand. “I know, I know. But that doesn’t exactly prevent each alleyway from looking more tempting than the last.”

“Think you can make it?” The neon lights of the city he hated glittered in her eyes, somehow made new and holy just by touching her. 

His mouth answered before his head could catch up. “For you, always.”

She sharply took in a breath and didn’t let it back out. When he glanced at her, he saw the most precious scarlet blush blooming across her face. Coughing, she said, “Flirt.”

Another pause. Jason cursed himself—he just couldn’t stop making her uncomfortable. And he had thought he was maybe worthy of her affections. Yeah, sure; how could he be when everything he said and did made her stiffen like that? His fingers traced the back of her hand in a silent apology. 

“Are your- are your feet bothering you?” he asked. Anything to fill the quiet between them and hopefully redeem himself. 

His question seemed to shock her, if the sudden raise of her eyebrows was any indication. Still, she humored him with an answer. “Yeah, I’m definitely regretting getting these shoes.”

“Want to take mine?”

She chuckled, which only made him want to hold her in some way (any way) even more. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Jay, I’d be tripping every other step.”

“I could always carry you, if you want?” he offered. He’d get to hold her and her feet wouldn’t hurt her if she wasn’t walking—it was a win for every party involved. 

“Very funny,” she said. The disapproving yet playful look she shot his way washed over him like a sunny breeze. “Because you wouldn’t immediately be questioned by the police as to why you were carrying a woman in the middle of the street.”

He took a moment to think about it. “I think we’d be okay. Plus, you’ll always have my back if we _are_ questioned, right?”

“We’re in Gotham, Jason.”

“And?” 

“ _And_ , we’re likely to get stopped anyway. We’ll be able to get back much quicker if we just continue the pace we’ve got.” She was a debater alright. Always so sharp with her tongue. 

That got him thinking about her tongue, and his cock ached for her with renewed vigor. He was a horny asshole for being turned this way and that for her; how the hell could he flip-flop between sheer consideration for her when he told her his feelings and thinking about how skilled she was with her mouth and lips and—ah, hell, there he fucking went again. Christ, he needed to get himself the fuck under control. 

“I don’t know about that.” Jason feigned innocence, like he hadn’t just been picturing her on her knees. Yeah, pretending was good; he could totally pretend everything was peachy-keen. “I’m pretty sure I could halve the time if I sprinted with you on my back.”

“Not happening.”

“Damn,” he said. 

She snickered. “Are you really that excited right now?”

“Are you _not_?” Playful but disbelieving indignation punctuated the question.

“My thighs are currently dripping with my cum, Jay,” she flashed him a reckless sort of grin, and his cock twitched at the thought of her legs glistening in her arousal, “But waiting makes it that much better, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sometimes,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Louder, he said, “Only when it’s you begging to finish around my cock, though.”

“Funny,” she said with a roll of her eyes. 

He could be a complete smartass and say something along the lines of ‘ _I sure thought so_ ,’ or ‘ _I know_.’ One glance over to her, with that witty anticipation obvious in the slight tilt of her head and curl of her lips, and he knew he’d have to throw her off of her game, just a little bit. 

In a low voice, he said, “Nothing’s funny about the way I want you right now, sweetheart.”

A beat of silence. Her starry eyes stared up at him, maybe in awe, maybe in confusion, and it was then that he realized there hadn’t been an ounce of playfulness or joking in his tone. It had been the truth, and the worst part was, he knew that _she_ knew it was the truth—she could read people almost as well as Dick, and seeing as she’d known Jason for a while, she also knew all of his tells for when he was lying. 

Like she could read his mind, she said, “Shit, you aren’t kidding me.”

“No,” Jason murmured. “No, I’m not.”

It was another dreaded mini-confession, one where he prayed she’d see through to his true feelings and one where he hoped she didn’t all the same. 

Her hand tightened around his. “Two more blocks. Then I’m all yours.” 

God, he wished that was true. 

* * *

Suffice it to say, they were able to make it back to the apartment complex with little to no other difficulties, though it took them maybe five minutes too many in Jason’s mind. Each second was just as torturous as the last, if not moreso, like he had anticipated. 

They reached a breaking point the second the elevator doors closed. 

The ride up was a whirlwind of their bodies pressed up against each other. She had him pinned up against the wall—not that Jason minded, especially considering how she unbuckled his pants to tease her fingertips just past the waistband of his trousers. Her mouth pressed against his, holding it hostage, and he didn’t ever want it back. 

The ding of the elevator halted her hands and her mouth against him. She smiled into his lips as she pulled away, holding onto one of his hands when the doors slid open. 

A whine, guttural and high-pitched—fuck, he doubted he’d ever whined like that before in his life—gurgled in his throat. Seeing as it was near midnight, no one was outside in the hallway, so then why the fuck didn’t she just keep touching like that? 

That thought posed its own problems. 

His mind clouded with lust and anxiety. Just a moment away from her and he was already fucked—and that was _with_ Jason still touching her in some way, shape, or form. How on earth would he survive without the smallest graze of her touch after this?

 _Just fuck off already_ , he told that annoying little voice in his head. Jason only had one night left with her, after all, and he wanted to make sure he enjoyed every last second he could with her before they eventually parted ways. 

He nearly dragged her down the hallway, the way an over-excited dog leads its owner on a walk. Which, Jason figured, was an accurate analogy, considering he followed her every command and was a bitch in heat around her. She laughed that loud laugh of hers—the one that bloomed warmth all throughout his body—the entire way. 

Jason gnawed on his bottom lip, counting down the distance between them and the apartment: twenty yards. . . fifteen. . . ten. . . . 

Their apartment door was (at first) a beacon of hope. He growled out her name along with another hushed “I want you,” before he tried the handle. Locked. Fucking _locked_. It made sense, considering they lived in Gotham and they certainly didn’t want any intruders given their occupation, but _come on_. 

“This is fucking bullshit,” he huffed beneath his breath. He shoved his hand into one of his pockets in search of the keys to fucking heaven. 

“Take your time, Jay,” she said, and he could hear the amused grin in her voice. Had he been just a hair less sexually frustrated, he might’ve acknowledged the smugness woven into those words. 

“Christ, where are they?” Jason (regretfully) let go of her hand to search the right side. It wasn’t looking good. He felt a tap on his shoulder. There, in her perfectly manicured fingers, were the items in question. “Did you pickpocket me?”

He would’ve been angry had he not been so impressed (and horny). The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe.” 

“You’re a minx, you know that?” Jason may or may not have ripped the things out from between her fingertips. He hadn’t even _noticed_ , and he’d been focused on her touch all night long. 

His hands shook with eagerness as he attempted to fit the key into the lock. Who could blame him? The love of his life was right beside him, her mouth pressed against his jaw, mumbling about how badly she wanted him. He was a goner any way he looked at it. 

She snuck her smooth hand down his pants to graze along his length—the keys jangled when they hit the ground. Jason braced his forearms up against the door, both shocked and incredibly turned on by her brazen behavior. 

“Butterfingers,” she teased as she stroked his balls. 

Jason could only groan out her name in response. The tip of her tongue flicked over his ear, and he hissed a curse instead. 

“I hope your hands won’t be so careless when they’re touching my cunt, Jay.”

“Sweet- sweetheart,” he managed to grunt out. 

“Well?” she asked, the picture of innocence. 

“You’ll have to- have to let me pick up the keys so you can find out.” His voice was nothing more than a gravelly growl from the depths of his throat. Jason would’ve torn that dress off of her in three seconds flat if he could’ve taken her in that hallway without fear of one of the neighbors butting in. 

Her hand closed around his shaft. She pumped up and down his length three times, each time tortuously slow—at the last, she brushed her thumb over his sensitive head. Jason had already known he was dripping precum, but now she did too. 

“Eager, are we?” 

“ _Angel_ ,” Jason bit out. He shuddered when her open mouth pressed against the back of his neck. “Angel, _please_.”

Each puff of her mercurial chuckles against his sensitive skin made him tremble with want. “I don’t know what it is you’re begging me for, Jason.”

“Let go of me for one minute,” with her hand now slick with his arousal, she slid down his cock once again, “-so that we can- can get inside, and I can _fuck you_ already.”

“Jay,” she gasped against him. “How are you going to fuck me?”

“However you want me to.” 

“Shit,” she said. With one last tug, this one tight and perfect and _enough_ to make him buck against her, she let go. He no longer felt her hot body pressed up against his back, nor did he have the pleasure of her precious breath on his skin anymore. “Make it quick, because I want your mouth on me as soon as fucking possible.”

His mind fractured into all the places he _could_ put his mouth on her. He bent down for the keys in a fog. “And where do you want it?”

This was fine, this was good; if she wasn’t touching him, he could maybe form a coherent thought. Sure, she wouldn’t be _touching_ him, but at least he could match her seduction with actual words. 

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been fantasizing about having your head between my legs all night,” she said, the same way someone would talk about the Sunday news. He loved how goddamn shameless she was. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moaned. 

Jason finally got the damn key in the lock and turned it with a jerk of his hand. The _click_ barely registered before he swung the door open and pulled her with him through it. 

“Jason!” she laughed (and reminded him how much he loved the sound of his name from her mouth). 

He responded by pushing her up against the wall and slamming the door with a kick of his foot. His eyes scanned over all the places he could kiss—her neck, her shoulders, her face, her chest—before they settled on her lips. Jason crushed their mouths together, drinking in the taste of her as he pressed his tongue up against hers. 

Her warm hands tugged his coat off—he flung it somewhere off to his left, never once breaking contact with her mouth. She moved for his tuxedo jacket next, smoothing her fingers beneath the lapels, pressing her soft palms over his clothed chest. The fabric pooled off his arms relatively quickly, though each second his own hungry fingertips couldn’t touch her was hellish agony. One of her legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him against her in a way that dissolved his world into nothing but _pleasure_ and _her_. He heard the _thump_ of her heel against the floor. That sexy fucking leg that had kept him so wonderfully close to her dropped down—she tugged on his hair hard as she kicked off the other shoe. 

He cupped her breast with one hand and her hip with the other. After her little show in the fucking hallway, Jason wanted to leave her a pleading, stuttering mess when he worshiped her completely and thoroughly with his tongue. 

His mouth moved from claiming hers to nipping down her jaw. She panted out short breaths, her chest heaving beneath his palm. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed and ground his clothed cock against her heat. 

“Yes, Jay?” 

“I- I need you.”

“Then take me.” 

Jason didn’t waste any time skimming his lips down the silk of her dress. Part of him screamed to savor the moment, to go slowly and memorize every part of her body one last time before he had to give her up, but he couldn’t—he was too goddamn selfish when it came to her, and when he got to the slit of her dress, the only thought resonating within his lust-torn skull was to _ravish her_. 

He sucked on the firm flesh of her thigh that had flirted with him from behind its curtain of black silk all night. His teeth felt over the area next, covering the sweet skin there with soft nibbles that gradually grew into lingering bites. Jason pulled back briefly to admire the dark smudge left behind from his touch. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. Her nails raked over his scalp. “Please.”

He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading over his lips as he mouthed higher. His tongue darted over the smooth skin of her hip, curling around the lacy band of her lingerie. At the same time, one of his hands snuck beneath her dress; his index finger trailed over the soaking bottoms of her panties. 

“Someone's all worked up,” he murmured. He could already taste her sweetness just like he could already feel her warm thighs surrounding his head. Only another minute of teasing before those perceived sensations were to become his blissful reality. 

“ _Please_ ,” she repeated. 

“Didn’t you say before that waiting made it that much better?”

“Fuck off and touch me already.” The raw desperation in her voice made his cock clench. 

Despite his aching need for her, however, he chuckled. “Kind of hard to do those in that order, angel.”

“Jay, you’re the one who said you were going to fuck me however I wanted you to. Well, I want you to fuck me with your tongue. _Now_.”

Ghosting his nose and lips down her leg, he said, “Is that so?”

“Please!” Her hips rolled forward and her fingers twisted in his hair to the point of stinging pain. 

He tugged down her red panties—fuck him, he adored her—down down down over every contour and curve of her gorgeous legs. Hell, it felt like they went on for miles, and Jason couldn’t wait until they were wrapped around him. 

As he eased the lacy undergarment off of one of her feet, his touches held little patience; his rough calluses caught on her smooth skin, something that both knotted up his stomach and prickled his body with little bursts of want. To occupy his needy lips, Jason trailed mouthy nips over her thighs, wanting quite possibly more than anything else to devour her already. 

The second those damn panties were off of her, Jason brought them to his mouth. He sucked on the damp, tangy spot where her heat had pressed, his hands feeling back up her legs. 

“Red panties,” he grunted, meeting her eyes. She looked at him like she wanted to eat him alive, and Jason knew that he reflected that same sentiment. “Do you have any fucking idea how hard that got me when you said you were wearing red panties?” 

She smiled down at her, her chest heaving. “Very?”

“That’s an understatement.” Jason put the fabric back in his mouth, pressing the wet spot against his tongue to tease every last drop of her arousal out. 

“What did you- what did you want to do to me?” she rushed out. 

“Plunge my tongue into your pussy until you came on it.” He pulled the lace from his mouth and flung it somewhere behind him—Jason needed to get to the source of her sweet cum _now_ , before he died of thirst for her. 

“That can be arranged,” she said with a coy arch of her eyebrows. “If you liked those, I’ve also got another pair just like them. Except those are crotchless.”

A groan trembled from his mouth. He saw her in nothing but those fucking panties, and when she bent over in his fantasy, that lovely pink cunt of hers peeked out from crimson lace. His grip tightened on her legs. 

“Model- model them for me tomorrow?” 

If there was a tomorrow, that was. He didn’t dare continue with that particularly acrid thought, though. 

Instead, he cursed himself. Somehow, Jason was always the one pleading her for something. She might beg him for release, but him? He begged her for just about everything. Granted, when the outcome was her in crotchless red lingerie and nothing else, he figured losing what was left of his dignity was more than worth it. 

“Maybe,” her hands smoothed down his neck and over the collar of his dress shirt, “It’ll depend on how good you are with your mouth tonight.”

God, fuck _him_. His cock throbbed with need and his mouth watered with want. 

“Hold up your dress for me and we’ll see, sweetheart.” His voice was deep and raspy from want. Given how she shivered, however, Jason figured it wasn’t so bad sounding. 

Her smile broadened and her hands left his body. He missed their warmth, but the second her dress started lifting up, he forgot to mourn their loss. How could he, when her delicious cunt, dripping and flushed from arousal, was _finally_ revealed to him?

He leaned in closer without thinking about it, his breath puffing over her exposed heat. Gulping, he said, “Perfect, angel. How about you- you rest your legs on my shoulders, too?” 

Slowly, so slowly each second killed him, one of her legs trailed up his side. It hooked around his shoulder and he bit out her name—her slick had dripped down her thighs. Before the other was even up, his tongue pressed against the damp skin to lap up its precious taste. 

“Fuck-!” 

The curse fell from her mouth the second he touched his lips to her legs. She shuddered and buckled—Jason thanked God he was fast and strong enough to catch her before she fell, all while he kissed closer to where she needed him most. 

“Easy, love,” he chuckled. With each syllable, his lips brushed over her heat. 

“ _Jason_ ,” she said.

He wanted to keep her voice that airy and soft. Teasingly, he traced the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit. “Patience.”

“Eat me out,” she mewled, and lust branded into his body from his throat to the head of his cock. That was why he loved it when she pleaded for him—not only did her voice take on a dulcet, melodic tone that just barely hinted at her raw desperation, but it was also the equivalent of being handed the stars. “Fuck me- fuck me with your tongue.”

“God, I love your filthy mouth,” Jason growled before he gave her what she wanted. 

It was rougher than he intended, with each move of his lips against her wet folds a firm lingering and dragging and sucking. He wanted to slow down, to be as calm and collected as he had in sexscapades past, but the way she mewled and cursed and hissed only spurred him to continue. 

Jason plunged his tongue into her heat. Her thighs trembled around him as he lapped up the slick dripping between them. She ground and bounced against him, desperate to get off—each moan of his name was louder and more heavenly than the last. The weight of her legs pressing against his shoulders was more than welcome, seeing as it gave him something to hold onto while he drowned in her taste. 

Jason pressed his lips against her clit before saying, “Angel, you taste wonderful.”

“Yeah?” she breathed. The sound was sharp like she couldn’t get enough air in, and he adored it. 

“Yes.” He kissed down her outer lips, her sweet tang hot on his tongue. “Fuck, I love it. I- I want to taste you like this every fucking day.”

“ _Please_.” 

Jason looked up from between her thighs. Her head was thrown back, her thick eyelashes fanning out from closed eyes. To distract himself from making her cum too soon, he shifted his mouth to one of her thighs, where he began sucking a small hickey. 

“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” 

Seeking more contact, she arched into him. “ _Yes_.”

“Careful,” he said, his voice dark and raw. “If you- if you keep asking me like that, you may never get rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you.” It was whimpered in a hushed way, like a confession in the dark. He gulped and wrapped his lips around her clit, praying he didn’t misinterpret her words; the inevitable fall from her grace would be even more painful if he mustered up hope first. 

“Fuck,” he murmured against her. “Do you really- do you mean it?”

“Yes, Jason, I d-” her voice cut off into a breathy whine, mainly because he began to suck on the swollen bud between his lips. 

Who could blame him? The woman he was in love with just admitted that she didn’t want to get rid of him. It may not have been an admission of love (even Jason knew not to hope for utter impossibilities), but at the very least it meant she cared about him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her forever after tonight after all. 

One of her hands found his hair, and the silk from her dress dipped ever so slightly to brush against his forehead. Jason didn’t really mind so long as she kept humming out those breathy sighs. 

He eased his tongue into her, careful to taste every drop of her sweetness. Her tight, smooth walls tugged him in—Jason closed his eyes at the thought with a moan. Circling his thumb around her clit, he curled his tongue. 

She bucked against him. “Yes!” 

Both the heady taste of her slick and the softness of her voice intoxicated him. Each press of his lips against her wet heat got him even more drunk than the last. He couldn’t help himself—the movements of his mouth and his finger grew harder and sloppier in his need to see her come undone. 

“Fuck- _Jay_ ,” she said. 

Even if she cursed him out of her life, even if she left the team and he never even fucking saw her again, even if she scorned him for the rest of her life, Jason thought he might be able to bear the weight of her hatred because of the gentle way in which she spoke his name. 

“Mm?” he asked, but didn’t dare separate from her heat for even a moment to further articulate the question. 

“Make me cum, make me cum!”

Jason couldn’t say no to her, not when she sounded so beautiful when she begged and not when he wanted the same exact thing as her. 

He mouthed over her harshly, each swipe of his tongue and press of his lips a prominent pressure that was far more different from the way he usually ate her out. That was probably because she overwhelmed him with her sweetness, and because he knew that he might never get to taste it again. 

With a gulp he prayed she didn’t feel, he teased the tip of his thumb around her clit. The little, swollen bud was slick with her cum and his saliva—he made sure that each revolution around it pushed just a little bit harder. 

Her thighs trembled around his head—her nails undoubtedly cut little crescents into his scalp—she arched against him—his name was the only word on her lips. Unsung ‘ _I adore you_ ’s and ‘ _I need you_ ’s and ‘ _I love you_ ’s rumbled in Jason’s throat. Even when she came around his tongue, with every inch of her body a quivering, flushed mess, she was still in complete control of him.

He kept sucking and kissing and licking long after she found release. Who could blame him, when she tasted like a holy miracle and when she kept saying his name with each gentle caress of his lips against her? Jason would never be able to get enough of her, even when he knew he would have to let her go tomorrow. 

Her chest heaved, and her breath evened out. The hand that had so desperately tugged at his hair smoothed down the side of his face. The action was tender, and it made his lungs ache. 

“Jay,” she breathed. “Jason, I- fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?” He wanted to tell her right then and there because her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered and the way she said his name was sinfully pure. 

“Yeah.”

Her soft thighs still brushed against his cheeks; the feeling of her quivering legs tethered him to her. Granted, he was already bound to her will the second she had taken his heart, body, and soul, though he figured that the precious pleasure of her smooth skin against his own rough flesh was the equivalent of a formal chain and collar. 

He would gladly wear any brand or shackle of hers even if she wasn’t the slightest bit his. 

Jason looked up at her—with her chest rising and falling and her skin red, she had never looked so gorgeous. “Good- good to know.”

“Fuck,” she hissed again. She finally met his eyes again, her own hooded with a lust and satisfaction that was all rolled into one bewitching gaze. 

“Want me to- want me to eat you out again?” he asked. He couldn’t hide the worship in his voice even if he wanted to, and Jason _didn’t_ want to. “I can do it, if you want. I can- I wouldn’t mind in the slightest, and I-”

“Right now, Jason, I need to fuck you.”

His voice caught in his throat. All he could manage to choke out was, “Bedroom?”

She smiled at him sweetly (and tightened the grip she had on his heart in doing so). “Unless you want me to fuck you right here on the floor?” 

“I want you to be comfortable, angel,” he managed to say, though the thought was tempting. 

“You’re too sweet,” she chuckled. Her thumb traced along his jaw. From between her legs, looking up at the swell of her breasts and her soft face glittering with sweat, Jason had never been more in love with her. 

Instead of saying anything for fear of fucking everything up, his hands gripped her waist, keeping her pinned against the wall even while he pulled out from under her. Slowly, _achingly_ slowly, he brushed his nose up her silk-clad body, only allowing his lips to catch on the peak of her chest and raise of her clavicle. 

He pressed a thigh between her legs—she rocked against it a few times, a broad smile drawing up her red-painted lips. “Trying to distract me?”

“I never did get to see you cum on my thigh, earlier.” Good. That was a nice, good, _coherent_ response, even though his brain was reduced to only two words: _love_ and _you_. “Maybe I- maybe I just want to see that, and make you feel good, all at the same time?”

“As lovely as that sounds, maybe _I_ want to just ride you already?”

“Shit,” he groaned. 

Her mouth brushed over his jaw. “With that in mind, how about you escort me to your bedroom, hm, Mr. Todd?”

Dumb numbness flashed through his body. She could tell him to jump off a building right now and he’d only pause to ask which one. “Of- of course. Whatever you want, love, it’s yours.”

It was borderline mechanical the way he picked her up, bridal style. Sure, he felt his arms hook beneath her knees and back, and yeah he felt her hot breath pant against his neck, but his whole body was on autopilot. The taste of her was still fresh on his tongue—his cock ached because it remembered the intimate pull of her heat; every inch of him was guided by her in some way, and Jason? Jason just let her drag him along, clinging on for dear life but not too afraid to sink completely in her waters.

She giggled in his ear as he fumbled to get his bedroom door open. “Need help with that, Jay?”

“No,” he grunted out. Jason slung her over one of his shoulders—he may have stopped to marvel at the little gasp that puffed from between her perfect lips for half a minute—before he opened the door. 

It swung, cracked against the inside of his wall, but Jason didn’t really give a damn when she laughed and playfully squeezed his ass. A part of him nearly wept because she treated it all like a game, but then again, he was the sorry sap who agreed to the conditions of their little rendezvous in the first place. 

“Let me down, please,” she murmured. Jason bit his lip and did as he was told. The way she stared up at him was nothing short of mischievous. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed. 

After all that, after the teasing and tugging her down the street and eating her out, Jason still wanted her to make the first move. Maybe it was because he was still scared this was all in his head, or maybe it was because the full reality of this being _the last time_ had settled and thickened into his bone marrow, but Jason couldn’t find it in himself to touch her. 

“Good boy,” she said, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. It was somewhere between bittersweet and ironic, how lost he was and how she didn’t even know it was to her. “Sit on the bed for me.”

He swallowed and did just that. Now he was eye-level with her chest, drinking in the smooth skin he couldn’t wait to mark up. 

She pushed him down onto the bed—who was he to resist her will?—before she straddled him. Jason thought that maybe she’d crush her heat against the bulge in his pants to tease him first, but she didn’t even allow him that fleeting, torturous pleasure. She just rested on her knees, only touching his hips with the insides of her thighs, so out of reach that even if he thrusted his hips up, he could only just barely graze ecstasy. 

“Relax, Jay-darling,” she almost hummed in that dulcet tone of hers. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” The sound gurgled in his throat. 

Her fingertips captured the bottom of his dress shirt, only a quarter still tucked in from their previous activities, and tugged it out from beneath the confines of his trousers. With the same careful, taunting elegance, she unfastened each annoying little button one at a time. Jason only felt the whispers of cloth against his skin, not the warmth of her body that he so desperately craved.

She pursed her lips in a playful manner, stopping to play with the crumpled collar of his shirt. She made no move to make contact with his skin, so that their only point of contact remained their legs, and even that was brief at best. The twinkle in her eyes told Jason she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Love,” he said when she only had two buttons left, and yet insisted on taking her sweet time. “Please, touch me.”

“I will, I promise, just not right now.” 

“Please-”

The tip of her forefinger followed along his jaw with the lightest of touches. Starved of contact and painfully aroused, he bucked his hips into the air and surrendered to the soft caress. 

It was so different from their previous pace, from the racing hands and pounding hearts and eager mouths. Jason had grown accustomed to gripping and tasting and ravishing her body—now that they were back to soft worship, he was set adrift in a tenderness he knew he didn’t deserve. She was the one who specified that this thing between them didn’t involve feelings, so then why was she acting like it suddenly did?

“Angel,” he said. Jason couldn’t build up hope, not again. 

She leaned over him; her hair tickled his skin. That last pesky button of his finally came undone, and yet she made no move to run her precious fingertips over his abdomen. “Jason, I’ve got you.”

 _I’m yours_ , he wanted to say. _Forever and always, I’ll be yours_. 

“Yeah?” he asked instead, his voice an octave higher than it normally was. 

“Mhmm.” The smile she wore wasn’t devilish, instead patterned with a genuine sort of sweetness that was so _her_ it stung him. 

Slowly, softly, dare he even say lovingly, her fingers trailed over his chest. The pressure was so light and leisurely that it sent an assault of shivers to echo throughout his body. It was both enough and not enough to satiate his need for her. His arms and legs shook from want. 

“I want you, I need you, please, I-” _I love you_. But he didn’t allow himself to say it. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop touching you, Jay.” Calm and even, like cool, rain-heavy spring air. Her fingernails skimmed over his skin next, just a little bit sharper than her previous touches. 

Jason moaned, not even caring about how pathetic he sounded. “Promise me, sweetheart?”

Through lidded eyes, he saw the corners of her mouth curl up just a little bit more. Gorgeous. She was absolutely gorgeous. He was a fool to expect anything less. Her hand smoothed back his hair, wild against his forehead—her lips brushed over the spot a second later. 

“I promise,” she said when she pulled away. 

He could have cried, partially because he believed her, partially because he knew he shouldn’t believe her, and partially because he was a fool for believing her. 

The tip of her tongue teased a wet line over his throat. Jason might have managed a breathless chuckle, but in reality, he was two seconds away from begging her to take him and begging her to love him and begging her to forgive him. The familiar ache of guilt settled in his chest once more. 

That being said, he didn’t have much time to focus on how much of a shitty person he was, not when her mouth opened beneath his jaw and not when he felt her sucking kisses into his skin. His mind went blank—all coherent thought fled his mind, complex emotions besides love and lust and adoration with it. 

“More,” he grumbled out from the deepest parts of his throat. 

Her bare heat pressed against his pants, and Jason wanted nothing more than to ask her to just take them off and fuck him already. He couldn’t, though, because her teeth grazed over his pulse and stole the very breath within his lungs. 

“More what?” Her tongue swirled over the spot she’d been particularly focused on kissing for the past minute. 

“ _Jesus fucking_ -”

She laughed against him. “I can’t do it if I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“More- I need harder kisses, angel,” he cried. “I want- I want marks.” 

Jason knew that if everything happened the way he knew it would, those little brands of her lips would only serve to haunt him—he’d remember every fleeting, heavenly touch just like he’d remember the disgusted hate in her eyes when he finally spilled his heart out to her. But he wanted her completely, or as completely as he was able to have her, and he figured he’d be able to deal with the pain of rejection. Maybe. 

“Visible?” she asked against his jaw.

“Yeah.” Jason managed a shaky nod despite being positively drunk off of her. The thought of being marked by her, however temporary it would be, for everyone else to see was too wonderful to pass up. 

“Where?”

“ _Fucking everywhere_.” Those two words were harsh like an order and yet raw with pleading. 

Her lips slanted over his pulse all at once—he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working, and maybe she noticed because after a minute of her lips working feverishly over his skin, she pulled away with a chuckle. “I’ll do it so long as you promise to breathe, Jason.” 

“I will, _I will_ , just please fucking- please just-” The sting of her teeth down his shoulder shut him up. 

Where she had previously been sparing, now it was like she was pouring herself over him; her hair tickled his jaw, her chest pressed against his, her nails stung his skin. Every part of his body drew against her, aching to be felt before she eventually left him at the end of the night. 

“Better?” she mumbled against his clavicle. 

“Yeah.” His voice cracked. 

The soft, flat pad of her tongue pressed against his pulse point at the same time her hips rocked against his. He arched against her, desperate to soak up every little bit of affection she threw his way. 

Each touch, whether it lingered or just barely skimmed across him, drew him further into love with her. She didn’t know it, but everywhere she put her hands and her mouth just greatened his infinite need for her, if that were even fucking possible. Her kisses were simultaneously perfectly satiating and not enough—her grip on his shoulders hurt and yet felt like heaven—her heat pressed against his cock allowed him through the gates of heaven even though they’re contact was hellishly incomplete. 

She practically prayed a hushed “ _Jason_ ,” into his skin, and he bucked up against her. The sharpness of her canines streaked across his neck one minute; the next she slanted her mouth down the hollow of his throat, only to tease along his clavicle with her tongue. Christ, just let him succumb to her already. 

She kissed down his chest, her nails dragging along his sides. Her mouth circled his navel with the softest ring of caresses, before her teeth teased over his hip. 

Her hands hooked around the band of his trousers and underwear. With just a single yank, Jason was completely naked in front of her. He shivered, though not from the cold his body was now exposed to. 

“Oh my,” she said when she saw his cock. The wetness of her tongue darted over his hip. “Someone’s excited.”

“Are you going to. . . ?” His hoarse voice trailed off. She’d prefaced earlier how she would suck him off tomorrow, not today, and yet now she eyed Jason’s cock with a hunger he’d only seen a few times before. 

“Do you want me to, Jay-darling?” Her fingertips dragged over his hips. 

“God, I- I wouldn’t- you can do whatever you’d like.” Curse him and curse his weakness for her and curse the way she controlled the very beat of his heart. 

She brushed her lips at the base of his cock, though never once did she touch his shaft. “Are you sure?”

He was chained to her by love and guilt—they always seemed to want the same things, even when Jason knew he shouldn’t want them and even when Jason knew he didn’t _deserve_ to want them. “Fuck- yes, you can suck me off, sweetheart, just don’t make me cum.” 

If he didn’t finish, it would be alright, right? Jason justified that that would be fine; his objective was to make her cum, not for himself to find release, so if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be cheating her out of what she deserved. 

Thoughts of half-redemption and technicalities, however, burned to ash the second her mouth touched the head of his cock. As if jerked there by a string, his hands sank into her hair. Her name was a sharp, sweet cry off of his lips. 

Her tongue traced over his slit, one of her palms holding his hips down while the other massaged his balls. Logical speech? He didn’t have that anymore; Jason would just add it to the list of things she’d stolen from him, with his heart, his soul, and his very body as some of the other occupants. 

He choked out a curse when her mouth trailed down his length—she hadn’t even put him all the way down her throat and he already felt the familiar tightening of his pelvis. 

“Angel,” he managed to choke out. 

When she pulled away, he almost fucking whimpered. “Yes?”

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to make you stop.” His stupid, needy hips tried to push forward, honestly to just graze her goddamn skin at this point to get off. It was her hands that stopped him. 

“I know,” she grinned. “Are you ready for me to suck you off?”

“Fuck, is that even a fucking question?” That was nothing more than a pathetic sort of gasp. 

Jason wasn’t granted an answer. Or, rather, he wasn’t granted a verbal answer. She took his cock all the way into her mouth. The head of it forced down her tight throat—his hips pecked forward when he identified that sudden feeling. His fingers tangled in her hair. 

“Please,” he moaned.

Her cheeks hollowed—she sucked him further in—her tongue flicked along the underside of his shaft—Jason could only choke out incoherent syllables. Christ above, she was sinfully good at giving head. He was already stupidly close to finishing, and she'd barely even _done_ anything to him; he made it up in his mind to fight the orgasm starting to trace over his body.

And then she fucking _hummed_. The vibrations from her goddamn throat and mouth and lips traced over his cock in a way that made white spots dance across his vision. Every part of his body, whether it be his hands or his hips or his head, jerked up. He murmured her name like a fervent prayer in the night. 

“I’m going to-!” he bit out. 

Cold air replaced the warmth of her mouth. His hips moved to follow her against his will, and yet couldn’t find what they needed most. Jason bit his lip to keep the pitiful pleas for her to just _fucking finish him already_ locked up deep within his lungs. 

She chuckled when she pulled away—how could she make him fall in love all over again with the smallest of actions? “You really do look good in red, Jason.”

“Huh?”

“My lipstick may have rubbed off a tad,” she said with a sheepish grin. “Seeing as you wanted to be marked, though, I think that I’ve done a pretty damn good job of doing so.” 

He looked down his chest, and sure enough, there were little smears and smudges of crimson from her lips—when he saw her mouth, swollen and painted with its own messy red, his hands tightened within her hair. “Are there- are there hickeys too?” 

“Of course,” she pressed her mouth right below his Adam’s apple, “There’s one here-” she kissed right over his pulse, “-and one here-” her lips brushed over the junction where his neck met his shoulder, “-and another here.” 

“Any more?” Jason was being greedy and while he knew it, he couldn’t exactly stop. 

“In due time,” she said. She pulled away from him to stand at the edge of the bed; Jason missed her warmth immediately. “For now, I think I’ll make good on another one of my previous promises.”

He swallowed thickly as her hands found the strap of her dress around her neck. Everything in his body ached for her, from his cock to his mouth to his naïve little heart. “What- What promise is that, exactly?”

“That I would ride you.” 

The dress dropped down from her body like a fucking black silk curtain unveiling a prize. Jason choked on air, his eyes raking over her soft skin like it was his first time ever even seeing. If only he could worship her properly. 

“Angel,” he said. “You- you’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”

“Sweet-talker,” she chuckled as she made her way back over to him. His gaze caught on her hips, entrance by their even swing of back and forth. 

“I’m not sweet-talking right now,” he confessed. 

Her warm palm skimmed over his chest. Dreadfully wonderful shivers fanned out in its wake. “That may be true, Jay-darling, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t still a flatterer.”

“I-”

“Don’t worry, I think you look gorgeous, too.” When she winked at him like that, cheekily and in control and fully aware of both, Jason could only gurgle out a soft “Okay,” in response. Shit, how pathetic could he get?

She straddled him, though not in a way that pressed her heat against his cock. No, she was just out of reach, once again, and it was killing him. 

“Angel,” he groaned, bucking up in an attempt to feel her. He couldn’t even manage to graze her. “Please put it in.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up into something sinfully gorgeous. “Not yet, Jason.”

“Please-” She spat into her hand before loosely wrapping it around his shaft, effectively silencing any pleas that wanted to leave his mouth. A low and garbled moan filtered from his lips. “Oh, _fuck_.”

The contact was firm enough to ease some of the ache of his cock, but sparing in that it never satiated his need for her. Jason could only gasp and whimper as she changed strokes, pumping fast and hard at times, while slowing down to a leisurely pace that allowed him to feel the intimate contours of her palm at others. 

“Better?” she asked, too innocently given the scene around them—him pressed into the bed with his mouth opened in a silent scream, at her mercy, and her, ethereal and lovely in the dim light, looking like she wanted to own him. (He’d never tell her this because it would make things weird between them, but if she wanted his fucking soul, he’d give it to her without a moment’s hesitance.)

“Sweet- sweetheart, I need you, _I need you_ , please,” he murmured with a hungry kind of reverence. 

She loosened her grip so that her fingers and palm just barely grazed up his shaft; her thumb played with the ridge of his swollen head. Jason shuddered against her, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks. “How do you need me, Jay-darling?”

‘ _In my arms for the rest of time, in the gentle hours of the night, in both the good and the bad, in the best life I can hope to ever give you- Christ, in every goddamn way imaginable_.’

“Fuck,” he bit out through gritted teeth. He was far too gone to her at this point, but he couldn’t ever in a million years take away her happiness. “In- in you. I need to be in you, love, please, _please_ -!”

“Well, when you ask me like that. . . .” she trailed off while arching an eyebrow. Smug satisfaction curled up her mouth and glittered in her eyes. 

Jason bit down on his bottom lip hard as she guided his cock to her entrance. His entire body burned and throbbed with need for her—when his tip finally brushed against her silken folds, a strangled, desperate grunt ripped free from his throat. 

“ _Please_ ,” he whimpered. 

With nothing more than a smile flashed his way, she sank down onto him. His body reacted immediately to her—his hands, stationed on her hips, pushed her further onto his cock—he thrust up into her, trying to get more and more and goddamn _more_ from her—he moaned loudly at the perfection of her velvety walls welcoming his shaft, and she moaned along with him. 

And then she moved, _and then she moved_. She bounced against his body, each pull and push of her core against him driving him closer to utter bliss. Jason could only hold onto her as he drowned in pleasure. 

“How’s- oh, fuck- how’s that, Jason?” 

“Angel!” 

The exclamation was sharp and guttural. Salt and iron from blood washed over his tongue. He’d officially broken skin from biting his lip so hard. 

“Is it good?” she asked again. Her eyes were screwed shut, brow drawn up in the sexiest mixture of concentration and bliss he’d ever seen. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he managed. “Don’t ever- don’t ever stop, please, _please_ don’t ever stop.” 

Her body arched backwards, exposing the column of her throat. Jason would have dragged his tongue and his lips and his teeth against it had he been able to reach her there. Though, then he wouldn’t be able to see how her chest trembled with every thrust into her. 

Her hands began tracing over his abdomen, her fingertips feeling lightly over his scars while her nails bit into his unscathed skin. He could only shiver against her—Jason was completely gone to

her with the way she pulled out and pushed him back into her and the way she caressed him so sweetly like he was something precious and the way she hissed out a curse every now and then. 

“Jason,” she breathed. 

“Love, you- you might not want to- _fuck, please_ \- you might not want to say my name like that, unless you want me to cum right away,” Jason grunted. 

“Mm- are you really that close?” Her eyes finally opened—they bewitched him with how they glittered like moonlight over water. 

He wanted to say something smooth to continue their usual banter, but all his hoarse voice could do was admit, “ _Yes_.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, a smile curling over her lips. Her index finger trailed over his hip. “Looks like we’ll have to slow this down to make sure you last.”

“Fuck-”

“Although, I can’t wait to be filled up with your cum, Jason.” 

He could only choke out her name at the way she clenched around him—she reduced Jason to a whimpering mess when she slowed down her desperate ruts against him like that, so each tug of her heat was intimate and soft against his cock. 

“How’s that?”

He nodded but couldn’t manage to say anything. His eyes closed in utter euphoria. Jason had lost himself to her, and he didn’t ever want to be found. 

“Good?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and he absolutely adored it. 

“Yeah,” he shuddered. 

She shifted her hips up and up and up until just his tip was buried within her soaking heat—then she fell back down onto him, sheathing him so completely and so intimately that he was sure his cock was made to fit perfectly within her. 

The hot skin of her hips burned his palms, though somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to mind very much. The total warmth of her body pressed against his—he opened his eyes just to see her pressed flush against him, their chests pushed against each other. As if that wasn’t enough, she found his neck and started mouthing scalding kisses over his skin. He rammed his hips up into her at the feeling. 

“Please,” he said, followed only by the reverent prayer of her name from his lips. 

Her mouth stopped its mesmerizing trail to say, “What do you need from me?”

‘ _You_ ,’ he wanted to say. ‘ _Always and forever you_.’

“Don’t ever- don’t ever stop,” Jason repeated instead. 

He felt her smile against his throat just as she clenched around him. “Don’t you want to cum?” 

“No- yes- I-” his voice cut off into a sharp whine. He didn’t want her to stop because then that would mean he’d have to come clean, but at the same time, he needed to see her own release like he needed to breathe. 

The heat of her chest against his suddenly pulled away—he was left with skin exposed to cold, open air. That may have been downright terrible, but she slowed her already leisurely thrusts against him even more. He could feel every precious fucking inch of her soft heat, and his toes curled each time she fluttered around him. 

“Jay,” she said with a sinful smile.

“Ye- yes, love?” Fuck, he sounded pitiful and he didn’t even _care_ anymore. 

“Could you be a sweetheart and put two of your fingers in my mouth?” 

He couldn’t say no to her, not in a million years, and especially not when she shifted her ass in little semi-circles while he was inside of her. Jason reached up—it was a fucking battle alone to get his hand away from her waist—and allowed her to take his index and middle finger into her mouth. 

The look alone of her rolling her eyes back and shifting her hips while she sucked on his fingers made him thrust up. He felt her moans vibrate into his fingertips. 

She slowed down her movements over his cock to take his hand from her mouth. Guiding it to where they were joined—Jason threw his head back into the pillows at the mere thought of being connected to her in any way—he felt the wet bud of her clitoris beneath his touch. 

As soon as he made contact, she bucked into him. “Fuck- _Jason_.” 

He could feel her slick dripping down to where his fingers pressed against her. She pulled him deeper in, pulsing and fluttering around his length. He might’ve drooled a bit, with his mouth open and shallow breaths trembling out of him, but that wasn’t exactly a problem for him at the moment—being so completely covered by her was too heavenly to focus on anything else. 

“More,” she said. Jason pressed harder onto the swollen bud—her name was ripped from his throat when she arched into him. 

“ _Shit_ ,” he said through clenched teeth. “Like- like that, angel?”

“ _Yes_.”

His balls throbbed—fuck, he was close—as he circled the wet bud with sloppy revolutions. With the way she tightened up around him, her velvety walls pulling on his cock as if to coax every drop of cum out of it, Jason guessed that she was close as well. All he had to do was last a few more pumps, just a little more, so that he could cum after she did. He just needed to get her there first. 

Jason bit the inside of his cheek and clenched every muscle in his body besides the ones in the hand that rubbed her clit. He was wound up so tightly it hurt, but he couldn’t cum yet. 

“Jason,” she gasped. His name was feather-light on her lips. 

“Yeah?” It was nothing more than a strangled breath, though he figured it was better than nothing. 

“Are you close?”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Yeah- yes.”

“Cum for me?” 

He wanted to protest, wanted to refuse, wanted to deny himself just to make sure she found bliss first. ‘Wanted’ was the operative word there—the second she suggested it in that silken voice of hers, his body thrusted up and into her and all of that pressure within him spilled out. 

He couldn’t stop saying her name—he almost slipped and told her he loved her then. His fingers jerked against her, trapping her clit beneath a heavy, lingering touch as his body spasmed beyond his control. 

And her? She kept riding and curving and bouncing until her own movements grew frantic. His cock, buried in her heat and pleasure-weak, was sweetly tortured by her own orgasm. Jason could only clutch her body and shake against her as her climax trembled from his own. 

“Jason,” she said. She still rocked against him, albeit in a smooth and rippling sort of manner that electrified every atom of his poor body. 

His fingertips shook against the skin of her hip and the wetness of her heat. “Mm?”

Any other time, he would have cursed his speechlessness, but after a release like that, with her heat still enveloping his cock so wonderfully, Jason was lost in ecstasy. His eyes fluttered shut at its tingling waves still echoing through his body. 

“Ready for round two?” Her voice was soft but her breathing was heavy. She braced her palms on his chest, seeking balance. The words barely registered in his mind before her hips started rolling against him again. He grunted—loudly, might he add—as he found his voice enough to speak. 

“Wait wait wait,” he breathed, his hands flying to her waist. “I’m still- _fuck_ \- still sensitive. Can we stay still for a moment?”

She nodded, laying down on his chest. Jason was so delightfully surrounded by her warmth in that moment, between the weight of her body resting on his and the tightness of her heat still pulling at his cock. 

He pressed his lips to her forehead as his hands traced over her back. If only he could stay like that forever, with her resting so intimately against him, in the dark silence of the night, without any interruptions and without any responsibilities. In a perfect life, that would be their reality—in a perfect life, she might love him back. 

He sighed and forced himself to focus on the moment. Pointless what-ifs wouldn’t get him anywhere with her anymore. Especially when he didn’t even deserve them. He should just enjoy what finite time he still had left with her before it was too late. 

Jason adored the gasp and giggle she let out when he flipped her over, still fully sheathed within her. 

“I thought you were still sensitive?” she laughed, the sound airy from breathlessness. The sound alone made him half-hard again. 

He groaned as her walls fluttered around him. “I was, until I remembered how fucking beautiful you looked tonight.”

It was only part of the truth—she _had_ looked positively heavenly—but that was hardly the reason he was spurred into action. The full truth was, Jason knew he’d have to tell her by the end of the night, and as much as he could pray to a god he didn’t believe in that morning would never come, he was still stupidly practical. One more time. They’d have sex one more time before he told her. 

“Fuck me hard?” she suggested. Jason ran his tongue over the cut on his lip at the prospect. 

“What other way is there to fuck you?”

Well, besides sweetly, and slowly, like they were making love. But she didn’t really need to know that, and he doubted she’d want it that way even if she did.

Jason pulled out, humming at the way her heat clinged to his cock. The thrust he pushed back into her was sharp and brutal. They moaned in unison, the vibration of it spreading across both of their chests. They were connected right now, he remembered, and even if it was fleeting, he would make the best of it anyway he could. 

“Feel- you feel so good, angel,” he said, completely lost to her. 

“Shit,” she hissed. “Faster, _faster_ , please.”

He swallowed back another groan and snapped up into her. The sound of his cock, _sinking_ into her wetness, filled the room, along with her precious gasps and his own grunts. Jason doubted there was ever a more perfect symphony. 

He wanted nothing more than to mark up every inch of her body with his love bites. Even if it was terrible and possessive and even though he knew she didn’t like it when he did, he couldn’t get the persistent thought out of his head. How shitty and pathetic could he get?

His mouth latched onto one of her breasts in an attempt to satiate that need. No one would (hopefully) be able to see the dark spots he peppered the soft skin there with, nor would they (hopefully) see the reddish-purple color he sucked her nipple to. 

Those would be his secret marks, his hidden seals that showed that he could pleasure her and that she, in some way, was his. 

_She’s not yours_ , he reminded himself. _She’ll never_ be _yours_. 

And he’d do well to remember it, especially when in less than an hour he would be alone in his room with only the memory of her body on his to console his heartbreak. 

“Fuck, Jay,” she moaned. 

“Yeah?”

“Mark me higher, please?”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Except her asking him to mouth down her skin wasn’t something to be damned, but instead more of a divine blessing.

Jason snapped up into her, the thought of fucking her and being able to leave the marks to prove it something of a selfish miracle. He bit his lip hard at the prospect. “Are you- are you sure?”

“Please, _please_.”

He didn’t need to be told a third time. 

His teeth dragged up the soft skin of her chest, lips hungrily following the contours of her clavicle first, before reaching the hollow of her throat. He bit and sucked and kissed every single inch of sweet flesh he could see—first red sprouted in the wake of his hot mouth, but as he lingered longer and longer, nipping with more edge each time, that red turned to a pretty sort of purple that looked absolutely lovely against the blush of her body. 

Even that wasn’t enough for his sorry ass; he pulled her skin between his lips, then his teeth, trying to taste every ounce of sweat he could. The result, when he finally let go, was a dark violet blotch at the base of her throat. One look at it, with the feeling of her flesh still hot on his tongue, and Jason wanted to cover her entire beautiful body with little smudges like that. 

He plunged into her, sinking so deep within her velvety heat that he saw fucking stars. Jason knew it was terrible that he wanted to so thoroughly brand her with his touch, knew that it was barbaric and backwards and downright shitty, and yet he couldn’t stop his lips from crushing against her just as fervently. 

“Christ, _Jason_ ,” she cried. Her fingers dug into his back to the point of harsh, stinging aches, and yet that only encouraged him to suck another particularly dark mark right below her jaw. 

She pulsed around him when he bit lightly into her shoulder—he did so softly at first, but when her cunt pulled him in like that, he clenched his teeth tighter into her skin. She curved into him, a throaty gasp torn from her mouth. Jason wanted to hear that goddamn sound for the rest of his sorry life. 

He pulled away and saw the angry red circle left in his stead. A crude mixture of shame and need choked up his throat; he wanted wanted wanted her to be his, for her to bear his marks with pride, for her to love him back the way he loved her, but he never wanted to hurt her. Jason soothed his lips over the imprint to hopefully reconcile the offense. 

In his attempts to be sweeter, his thrusts had also slowed, so that instead of harsh, brutal strokes, his body flowed into hers. Every inch of her welcomed his cock, clinging to him when he shifted his body back. 

“Jay,” she said, and he had to kiss the base of her throat just so he didn’t blurt out ‘ _I love you_ ’ right then and there. “I was so close.” 

“I know. I know, angel. Hang on for me a little longer, yes?” 

That was all he could say, especially when he was chained to her by utter love and guilt. If he was going to tell her that he loved her at some point, if he finally mustered up the goddamn courage to, then he wanted to make sure he felt every precious inch of her heat sliding around his cock. Christ, he was selfish. 

She furrowed her brow, asking in a breathy whine, “Why?”

“I want to-” _be yours_ “-feel you,” he almost confessed. “Because-” _I want you and I need you and I love you_ “-you take my cock so nicely, sweetheart, and it’d be a shame not to enjoy it.”

“Please, Jason.” The sound was a dulcet hum from the back of her throat, and she curled her hands into his hair as if to spur him on. Fuck, the things she did to him—he thrusted up into her just a little more sharply than before. 

“I want you, angel. So- so much,” he murmured with a thick voice. 

Jason pulled back to watch her ruddied face. Her eyes were closed into the prettiest little crescents, her lips crushed together in what he prayed was ecstasy. Yet he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment. Something in his chest tightened, because he’d been unbearably close to telling her the truth in that exact moment: ‘ _I love you and I need you and you’re just so lovely and I adore everything about you and I’m so sorry that I love you because I know you can’t love me back but please, please don’t leave me because it would just about kill me if you did_.’

Jason fluttered his mouth down and over her chest again, each drive into her heat holding a little more urgency than his previous softer pace had. He couldn’t tell her all that because he knew she’d feel inclined to stay with him, even if it hurt her—she was too sweet and he was too selfish and she could never return his feelings. 

“Faster- _please_ , Jay,” she hissed out. 

He groaned against her, knowing the way he mouthed along her breasts was harsher than he meant. Jason just couldn’t help himself—everything she did just made the love that burned in his chest grow even hotter. Soon it would consume him, though Jason couldn’t really find it in himself to care. 

He pumped harder, eager to please and desperate to feel needed by her. His reward was her cunt trembling around his cock and a lewd moan torn from her mouth. He felt her nails bite into his back and her breath brush over his forehead, felt the heat and wetness of her arousal clenching around him and sucking him _in_ , felt himself getting lost in her, even further than he already was. 

“I want to fuck you like this, sweetheart,” Jason grunted. His lips were loose from making love to her, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d say something that he’d regret. “I want to fuck you like this every day.”

“Please, please-!”

“I want you- want to taste your pussy every- every day, and I want it around- around my- _Christ_ \- around my cock, every day too.” 

“ _Jason_ ,” she mumbled. 

His hands gripped the firm flesh of her hips—he wondered if she’d have imprints of his fingers tomorrow. Her name was the first thing from his lips, before he professed again, “I just- _I want you_.”

“You have me.” Her voice was nothing more than sharp breath pushed out from her mouth. “Fuck, _Jay_.”

He plunged into her at the sound of his name. “I want you like this every day- fucking- fucking _always_. Is that- is that okay, angel?”

“Yes, God- please,” she cried out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, the ecstasy from their sting grounding him. 

“ _Shit_ \- I need you, _I need you_.” It was a hoarse and frantic plea, one that revealed his true feelings just a little too much. Want bled into each mouthy kiss that nipped into her skin.

“Please, please- _please_ Jay.” He loved the sound of her begging him and he loved the way her hands pulled him even closer and he loved the way she said his name and he loved the taste of her sweat on his tongue and he loved the feeling of her skin on his and he just loved _her_. 

He could only breathe out her name, lest he expose all of the terrible, hidden desires that lit him aflame for her. 

His hands pushed her down onto his cock as he plunged as her legs tightened around his waist as she met his latest thrust. Every action between them—the trembling and grabbing and touching—was aimed at keeping them as closely intertwined as possible. 

Christ, she was close and he was close and he needed to see her come the fuck _undone_ by his efforts. He needed it more than goddamn anything in his entire life. 

She was all around him, her walls clinging to his cock and her nails digging into his shoulder blades and her breath panting against his cheek and her thighs spread welcoming and her ankles crossed at the small of his back and fuck, he was drowning in her. Jason gave up trying to fight it, gave up trying to swim in her deep, completely succumbing and surrendering to her instead. 

He muttered her name as he got closer, before biting out, “Fucking _mine_.”

“ _Yes!_ ” she gasped, clawing up his back for more traction. Her body wound tighter and tighter around him, until she cried out his name. Jason had never heard a sweeter sound. She clenched around him, pulling him in in _in_ with both her trembling orgasm and her legs pressing against his lower back. “Yours, I’m _yours_.”

Her words registered and he barely lasted a single snap of his hips after she came before he was over the edge, too. 

“Yes, _fuck_ , sweetheart- _I love you_ ,” he moaned as he released in hot spurts. Hell, she just kept rippling and moving and shifting and milking and-

A heartbeat. Then another. He choked on nothing, his hands stiffening around her waist. Fire bloomed over his palms and his face and his chest as a tidal wave of panic swept over his stomach, leaving no survivors. His pulse strangled his neck. The post-orgasm high didn't last long because of the sheer fucking anxiety shooting through his body. Hastily, he pulled out of her and stood up despite the warmth of her heat spurring his cock for another round. His legs shook from a mixture of pure bliss and utter fear. 

_Please don’t tell me she heard_ , he begged some unknown god. _Please don’t tell me she heard me confess my fucking love for her mid-fucking-orgasm. Please_ -

Breathing heavily, with eyes wider and brighter than the fucking sun, she said, “What did you say?”

Jason gulped. “Nothing.”

“Jason,” she frowned. Her gentle hand traced over his jaw. It shifted his head so that he _had_ to look at her even though he wouldn’t be able to bear the disgust sure to be found in her eyes. “Say what you just said again so I can make sure I didn’t mishear you.”

“I-” he swallowed, his throat thick with a million curses and a million apologies, “I'm in love with you.”


	9. The Aftermath, and the New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear in the past eight chapter, quarantine has reduced me to a lonely bitch, so most of this is self-indulgent fluff and smut for the soul.
> 
> Anyways, it's done, babey!! I'm so thankful for all of you for your support and comments, especially during the lag of chapters--your words of encouragement mean absolutely everything to me. I hope you enjoy this last installment of Suds and Buds (Yeah, Sure) and I hope all of you stay safe and healthy!

“I- I’m in love with you.”

Sweat clung to her naked body, and her pulse throbbed loudly in her neck, rapid and heavy from orgasm—both were uncomfortable, but not enough to distract her from the cyclone of thoughts swirling around in her head. How could anything ever distract her from those words?

Six total, five of which held one of Jason’s complete thoughts. It was only a handful of letters and sounds, and yet they built up her entire world, her entire _future_. 

Heaven-bound. She was heaven-bound— _they_ were heaven-bound. Together, like she’d always dreamed of but never allowed herself to believe. 

Her head raced as it connected the dots—all of the late nights spent talking and laughing about nothing while looped in a naked embrace, all of the heated stares thrown her way that she now interpreted as amorous or affectionate or pining, all of the loving caresses and deliberate kisses with which he traced her body; it had never been just sex for him, and she was a fool to believe otherwise when his touches held just as much worship as her own did. Jason loved her back. _Jason loved her back_. 

“I love you too,” she rushed out. 

The apprehension, the fear, the longing, and the self hatred all melted away from Jason’s face. However, they weren’t replaced by what she felt—a kind of warm relief that bloomed into her fingers and her toes and her chest—but instead by doubt, and, somehow worse, _disbelief_. He made no move to touch her despite the painfully obvious verbal indication to do so. 

“What?” His voice was too quiet. 

“Jason, I love you,” she said again, sitting up in the bed and allowing herself to finally smile as reality set in. 

His eyes widened a fraction. Blue, crisp and cool and _new_ like she’d never seen it, stared back at her, into her. “How can- how do you love me, exactly?” he stuttered. “Like is it- is it a friendly kind of love, or . . . ?”

She giggled. “I’m _in love_ with you.”

“You are?” His shoulders relaxed an inch; Jason didn’t look like he wanted to bolt anymore, but there was still a wariness in the way he made no movement toward her. 

She’d have to convince him. And as heartbreaking as it was that he couldn’t seem to believe she shared his feelings, she was still the tiniest bit happy that _she_ , out of all of the people in the world who knew Jason, had the fortune of reaffirming her feelings without fear of being rejected. 

“ _Yes_ , Jason,” she grinned and reached out to take his limp hands into her own. “ How could I not be?”

His fingers shook against her palms as he finally took a step closer. A sheltered kind of hope turned his brow up and softened the frown of his mouth. “Say it- say it again for me, sweetheart. Please?”

“Jay,” she murmured with a quiet laugh, brushing her lips over his knuckles. “ _I love you_.”

“You-”

“I love you,” she repeated. Her gaze never faltered from his. 

“Again, _please_.”

She couldn’t help the little snort that jumped out of her. “How many times do you want me to repeat it?”

“Honestly?” Jason asked, his eyes round and glinting with the stars of the entire cosmos. He stooped lower, hands clutching hers like she might fly away forever, before he kissed her forehead. Only then did the softest smile grace his lips. “I never want you to stop saying it.”

“Good,” she said. Grazing her nose with his, she continued, “Because I’m never going to.”

“Christ, I love you,” he breathed. She closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips skimming over hers with every word. His calloused fingertips traced loopy designs over the backs of her hands. 

“I love you, too.” And that was when she finally pressed her mouth against his. 

They had kissed countless times before (holy fuck, how could she just realize that friends don’t just _kiss_ each other like that?!) so it shouldn’t have felt any different. The love had always been there, after all, on both sides; the only difference now was that she knew for a fact their hearts beat in the same marching resolution. She smiled into his lips at the thought.

The second they broke away gasping, Jason mouthed light kisses over her jaw and cheeks and neck. “You love me,” he murmured after a playful nip to her bottom lip, “You love me _back_.”

She laughed and held onto him tighter, if that were even possible. “Yes, I do.”

“ _You_ love _me_.” She could feel his grin nestled into the junction where her neck met her shoulder. She would have treasured the feeling if the way he said the words like he still couldn’t believe them didn’t hurt so much. 

“Jason?” her hands let go of his, instead to cup his face and splay into his hair. The way she held his face was careful, because he was just so _precious_ and she didn’t want to break him. “I’ll always love you.”

His breath caught, though he still smiled down at her. His eyes were squinted into such tight crescents that she couldn’t even see their beautiful blue anymore. “Really?”

Jason sounded as if he didn’t believe it, like he could _never_ believe it. 

“ _Always_ ,” she said, and meant it with every breath she’d ever taken in and every breath she ever would take in. 

That word had echoed around her head since she’d first met him, had zipped through the nerves of her body with every fleeting touch made with him, had determined the very rhythm of her heart with just the thought of him. 

His muscled arms crushed around her—the heady musk of his sweat and cologne enveloped her—his pulse and the feeling of his breathing poured into her; she drowned in him completely and willingly, not even putting up a fight. In fact, she even welcomed it, the sea of his body and the waves of his love. She would sink into him forever if she could, and now that that was a very real possibility, she was determined to do just that. Her arms hooked around his neck to hold him even closer and to never let go. 

Their noses brushed together. For a moment, she thought Jason would kiss her again. He certainly looked like he would. His head dipped, but then to the side, so his slightly chapped lips skimmed over her left cheek first, before doing the same on her right cheek. She couldn’t stop the fierce grin that took control of her lips, nor did she want to. 

“I’ll always love you, too,” he murmured in a low, dulcet tone. 

Despite the sweetness of his words, he looked uncomfortable, all bent over and standing while she sat on the edge of the bed. Plus, well, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms after all that had happened. 

“Jay,” she whispered against his jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Lay down with me?” 

“If that’s what you want?” he said, the words turning up in the end like a question. She bit her lip; fuck, he was so cute when he was shy like that. 

“And why wouldn’t I want to fall asleep in your arms?” she asked. Her fingers curled in the wild and damp locks at the nape of his neck as if to encourage him to just _join her already_. 

A boyish grin stretched across his face, lighting up his eyes with the kind of joyful mirth she’d always longed to see in him. She’d do anything to protect that light, to shield it from rain and shadow, to prevent it from ever being snuffed out. 

All at once, his arms tightened around her—he leaned forward, slowly easing all of his weight onto her. It was a full ten seconds before her back hit the mattress and Jason’s heavy, muscled mass pressed her further into it. Hands brushing over the small of her back, mouth skimming over her jaw, he settled over her, relaxing, his pulse a faint but welcome rhythm to which her own synced up to. 

“Jay!” she laughed, the sound breathy and muffled from the weight of his body very nearly smushing her own. The scalding heat of his body surrounded her, and she embraced it wholeheartedly. 

“Hm?” he murmured. His eyes shut as his breath evened out. 

“You’re crushing me.” Despite her protest, her fingers still danced through his hair. Jason shuddered, the tremors shaking from him and dissolving into her. She felt everything—every precious breath, every gentle shift, every drip of sweat, every hushed whisper, every trembled sigh. 

“With love,” he countered, the sound muffled and sleepy. 

She let out another airy chuckle. “With your body, more like.”

Jason groaned—for a moment, she thought he would protest again and stay where he was—before he flipped their bodies over. With her now on top, though his arms still fastened tight around her waist, without so much of a hairbreadth between them, they were just as snuggled up as before. 

“Better?” he asked. The persistent gravel of his voice hadn’t left, though was just barely smoothed out by a gentle sweetness that made her toes curl. 

“Much. Thank you.” 

She nestled into his arms, her own slinging around his neck to hold them even closer. Their legs entwined, maybe more than previously. She doubted there was even an atom separating their bodies. This was where she was meant to be, now and forever, in his arms and safe and just plain _with him_ ; she didn’t want to be anywhere else, didn’t want to feel anything besides his stubble prickling her hairline or his strong arms crossed over her back and clutching the sides of her waist or his steady breathing bleeding into her. This was home. 

“Hey, Jay?” she asked into the warm silence. 

“Mm?”

“I love you,” she breathed into his skin. 

He inhaled with a gasp, like he hadn’t expected the declaration (even though they were both hellbent on saying it to their heart’s content). “I love _you_.”

Her eyes opened to bask in his glory. “I love everything about you.”

“Uh oh,” he said, though the smallest smile turned up the corners of his mouth. His eyes shifted beneath their lids but didn’t open. “That’s a lot of bad, sweetheart.”

“Funny,” she shot back. Her fingers curled in his hair. “I’m serious, though.”

“So ‘m I.” He wasn’t taking her seriously—that much was evidenced by the playfulness with which he said it. 

“Jason,” she almost sang. She shifted so that she was resting on her hands, free to move save for his clenched grip still fastened firm around her.

“Yeah?”

“I love your eyes,” her lips brushed over his silken eyelids, right above where his dark eyelashes rested, “-and I love your cheeks,” a little peck was placed on either side, “-and I love your jaw,” she trailed open-mouthed kisses down it, “-and I love your smile,” she kissed each corner of his quirked mouth just before it broke out into a full-blown grin. 

His eyes finally opened, displaying the blue she so coveted. The lazy smile on his face never died away. “I knew you only loved me for my looks.”

“That’s hardly the case, though you are quite handsome,” she chuckled. 

“Only quite?”

She rested back down against his spent body, though not before she pecked that elusive right dimple of his. “Did I say ‘quite?’ I meant ‘devilishly.’”

Jason only laughed, the sound breathier than she’d heard it in a while. Her lungs seized up when she realized that _she_ did that, that _she_ was the one to make a scarlet blush cover from his neck up to the tips of his ears. She wanted to do more, to show him just how much she adored him in every way imaginable, and maybe to tease him a little bit along the way as well. 

His thumbs traced uneven circles into the small of her back. “We both know you’re the knockout of this twosome, sweetheart.”

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. More than maybe even being his, she wanted him to realize his worth, because _Christ_ , he was worth everything to her. Everything and _more_. 

“I love your laugh, too,” she said in a soft voice after a few moments’ pause. “I love the way your hands feel in mine, and against my body. I love your sense of humor, and I love how passionate you are about books,” she paused and chuckled as she remembered a time when Jason was particularly rowdy about the latter, “Do you remember when you went on that rant about Victor Frankenstein a couple months back?”

“Kind of?” The words sound halfway lighthearted disbelief and cherished awe. 

“So cute,” she chuckled. Her mouth traced over his Adam’s apple. 

“If I remember correctly, there were several rather unsavory curse words. Hell, Alfie would’ve skinned me for half of the things I said. I really wasn’t the most eloquent.” Jason sounded amused. She didn’t even have to look up at his face (even though he was a gift from the gods) to know he was arching a disbelieving eyebrow down at her. 

She barked out a laugh, though it was muffled by both by her nuzzling into his neck and exhaustion. “I believe you called him a ‘snivelling son of a bitch’ who was the ‘Georgian era embodiment of toxic masculinity.’ And that was you being _tame_.”

“Where’s the lie?” Trailing up her spine, his calloused hands raised patterns of goosebumps over her skin. 

“Nowhere,” she admitted and traced along the shell of his ear. “I just found it adorable, is all. I find most of what you do adorable.”

Jason snorted, but when she cracked open her eyes, she noted the red blush that flared over his chest again. “I think you’re the only one who finds _anything_ about me adorable.” 

“False, incorrect, and just plain wrong.” 

“I think you’re forgetting how many people I’ve killed?” 

“Fantastic pillow talk, Jason,” she said with a reprimanding tap of her thumb against the back of his neck. When he started to protest, she cut back in, “I’m kidding you. But seriously, I don’t- it doesn’t make you irredeemable or unworthy of love, you know?”

“I beg to differ.” His voice was thick. She didn’t know from what. 

“Then beg. I won’t give you permission, and I’ll counter each one of your excuses with well-thought out arguments until you simply can’t ignore your own worth.” 

His hands found her hips and clutched at the skin there, as if to keep her pressed against him forever. She found it strange that he would be so adamant when she was his, through and through, which meant she’d always be by his side. “I- that’s just unfair. You know I can’t say no to you.” 

“I do know that. Now, at least. And I intend to use it to my benefit at every given opportunity,” she smiled into his skin. 

Jason hummed like he was displeased, though it was nothing short of playful. “You win this round.”

Her smile broke out into a full-on grin. She couldn’t help it; her stretched lips were eager to touch his skin, to prove their adoration for him, to worship him in every way imaginable. They pressed into his neck and along his clavicle and over that thick scar that ran over his right shoulder. 

Even that wasn’t enough. And a part of her knew that it never _would be enough_. She would always be inclined to touch Jason, to _love_ him, and it wasn’t just a need, either; she _wanted_ to love him forever. 

Now, hopefully, they _could_ have forever. 

With slow, smooth strokes, her fingers fanned over his chest. Jason’s breathing slowed then staggered—a moan hummed in his throat. “I love it when you do that,” he said, his eyelids fluttering. 

“Touch you?” she chuckled. 

“Mhmm.” The arm that she rested on curled to completely cradle her head; his other hand skimmed along the back of her thigh. 

She shuddered. “I think I like it when you touch me, too.”

“You think?” he snorted. “And just ‘like?’”

“Hush, you,” she leaned in to peck his chin, “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t think I do.” She pulled away from his neck to look into his eyes. Between the smug grin and quirked eyebrow he wore, she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. Two could play that game. 

She sighed in mock dramatics. “Fifteen minutes into our relationship and you’re already getting cocky.”

“How can I not be cocky when you love me back? The fucking impossible happened, and I’m beyond lucky because of it,” he said, brushing a kiss onto her brow. The tight way he gripped her leg eluded that he still thought she would slip away from him at any moment. 

Her thumb followed along the raised ridge of his autopsy scar. If anyone was lucky, it was her; even though it had been for a short while and even though they hadn’t even known each other back then, she’d still had to momentarily live in a world without him. He had come back, against all odds, and they had still found each other. She pressed her mouth against his chest, right where his thankful pulse bloomed into the kiss. 

“I don’t think there’s a world out there where I don’t love you,” she decided finally. 

Jason drew in a sudden breath. “That’s probably not-”

“Don’t you dare say that it isn’t true, Jason.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. She cupped his face, bringing his cautious gaze down to meet her own. “No matter how many times I’ve denied it or ignored it, I’ve always held these feelings for you, so my previous statement still stands.”

“I- alright.” 

The smell of his cologne pulled her eyelids down, heavy and sleepy and just so damn comfortable. She traced the sharp edge of his jaw, his stubble just barely pricking it. “I mean it when I say I love you.” 

“I know,” he said, but the words were soft and raw. “I don’t doubt you, I just- well, I just can’t really- I haven’t digested it yet. I hadn’t even considered—seriously, I mean—that you would feel the same way as me.”

She sighed, not from disappointment but from an aching understanding. “I know what you mean. I thought there was no way in hell I had a chance.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said. The knuckles on his free hand trailed over her back—softly, at first, then kneading a little deeper, easing the tenderness she hadn’t even realized was there in the first place. 

“How is your not loving me bullshit but my not loving you supposedly the default?” She kept her voice soft, mainly because she didn’t want to scare him off and mainly because a genuine curiosity burned within her. 

“You’re _you_ ,” he said, breathless, like it validated both arguments. When her mouth twisted into a frown, he rushed to continue. “You’re amazing, and you’re caring, and you’re everything good-”

“Hardly-”

“-and you don’t even _understand it_. I know that you aren’t perfect, but you’re perfect enough to me, and-” his voice cracked, “-and you’re perfect _for_ me. At least, that’s what I think.”

“Oh, Jason,” she murmured. She cupped his face, letting her lips trail over his flushed skin. 

Jason exhaled, relaxing into her touch, his voice and hands still shaking against her. “And I’m me. I’ve done so much shit—so much _bad_ —and no amount of penance can ever make up for it. I’m- I’m as imperfect as you are perfect.”

She allowed herself to smile. “So not very?”

“That’s a lie,” he frowned. “You already know how I feel about you.”

“Rose-tinted glasses-” she pressed her mouth against his pulse point, “-can obscure even the sharpest of vision.” 

“My vision is clouded only with you,” Jason confessed, eyes hooded and glassy and lovestruck; then he bit his lip and blushed up to his ears a second later. “Sorry,” he coughed. “That was cheesy.”

The small smile she’d hesitantly grown before bloomed full force. Hell, she even chuckled, though she figured she had an excuse to, because her cheeks hurt from being so happy and because Jason was too damn cute for his own good. “It was, and it also proves my point exactly. But don’t worry, Jay, you’re the only person I see, too.”

“Christ, and that’s a fucking miracle within itself.” His thumb started up its slow circles mid back again, spurring her to melt further into his touch. 

“Why?” 

“You could have anyone you wanted, angel. _Anyone_. And the fact that you’d go after me is just. . . mind-boggling.” The pale blue of his eyes was soft and watery, the delicate curve of his lips so fragile it almost hurt. 

“Jason,” she said his name, savored the feel of it rolling over her tongue and sweetening it, “I love you. Every step of the way, I chose to love you, because you’re both a wonderful person and deserving of love.”

His arms tightened around her, but he didn’t say anything. She expected him to continue to fight her on it, to proclaim his apparent villainy, not to fall silent. A part of her understood, though; he needed time to process it—to process her love for him—just like he needed time to love himself. 

She’d be with him all throughout that journey—she’d be there to hold him up when he stumbled just like he would do the same for her. She nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the calming scent of his faint cologne. Sandalwood and mint smothered her, and she laid still, gladly letting it wash through her. 

The silence was also welcome, also comfortable. Their thoughts were heavy, both with adoration for each other and with where this new revelation could take them. So long as he was by her side, she’d be happy. In his haze, Jason’s hand followed every curve and contour of her back, thoughtful and slow, like he was trying to burn the feel of her skin into his memory. 

“When did- when were you sure you loved me?” The words were spoken so gently and so carefully she was almost surprised they didn’t break completely. 

“Remember last winter, when Roy had that bad concussion, and it was just us two on patrol for a while?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, one of those nights it was raining. Y’know, the kind of ice cold rain that just seeps into your skin and muscles and bones? It was like that, and it was quiet for once.” She stared off at the crumpled sheets half-pushed off the bed, a small smile pulling up the corners of her mouth as she remembered. “And you weren’t- you didn’t have your helmet on, so it was just the mask. Water was all caught up in your hair like diamonds, and you had this grin on your face. Like I’d never seen. Just, this wide grin that split your face in half, and I wanted to keep on your face more than anything else in the entire world.”

“I-” his voice finally did cut off, _shatter_ , just as his arms stiffened around her like he was afraid to fall, “I’m an idiot for not remembering that exact night.”

She could almost feel that pervading cold whispering in her fingertips, could see the water tracing down his face and finding the hollows of his dimples. She managed a dry sort of chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. But, well, yeah. I think I knew I was slipping towards feelings for you before that, maybe even letting myself slip, but that was the moment where it all sort of clicked and I finally let myself fall.”

“Shit,” Jason said, and that single word wavered. 

A laugh bubbled up in her chest; she let her lips tremble over his autopsy scar when it finally sounded. “‘Shit’ is all you have to say to my grand confession?”

“No, Christ, not at all-”

“I’m teasing you, Jay. Trust me, I’m still- still in awe, too.” Her thumb traced along his jaw in pensive remembrance. “It’s crazy for me to even think that you’d feel the same.”

“How is it crazy? You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met!” Jason defended. 

“I doubt I’m the loveliest,” she said. 

“That’s a heaping load of bullshit.”

“How about the luckiest?”

“There’s no way you’re the luckiest seeing as _I’m_ the one who’s with _you_.”

“Corny,” she half booed, half giggled. She was just happy he wasn’t so sullen anymore.

“I’ve spent over a year holding all of this corniness in for you, angel,” he pressed a firm kiss into her temple, “That means that I’m sure as hell not gonna waste a second of that pent up corniness now that I know you feel the same.” 

“Over a year?” she asked. A breathless sort of severity settled over her previous puckishness. 

He sucked in a quick breath like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to, and not like he’d just handed her the entire world. _Again_. “I- yeah.”

“Shit.” She meant to echo his previous response, but it came out sounding genuine. Maybe it was because she was amazed that he had loved her first, or because they could’ve been together much sooner if one of them had cracked just a little bit earlier. 

“Fifteen months. Well, almost,” Jason admitted. 

“Fifteen?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “It’s not gonna be poetic like what you said, though.”

“One, I’m not so shallow that an un-poetic story about love would make me hate you. Two, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The look he shot her screamed ‘I beg to differ,’ but he didn’t humor her with a retort. Instead, he tapped the back of her arm, where she knew she had one deep, dark scar slashed. “When you got this, we had only been working together for four and a half months, tops. We didn’t even know each other that long—I had previously admired your- your work ethic and your dedication, among other things—but then you just took that knife coming straight for my back like it was nothing.”

“In the grand scheme of things, it was,” she said in a soft voice. “It’s just another scar.”

“It’s not though, not to me. I- I know you were a little wary of me to begin with-”

“I was young and inexperienced and didn’t know who to trust,” she defended, hating that there was ever a time when she doubted him.

“-but the fact that you would do that, so effortlessly, so goddamn nonchalantly—hell, you fucking- you fucking smiled and laughed with me the entire time I patched you up later. Even _before_ that, you insisted on dressing my wounds first. You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” 

And Jason sounded like he meant it. She could tell because of the resolution in his voice and because of the sharp blue of his gaze meeting hers and because of the way his hand stopped rubbing circles into her back out of sheer focus on _her_. 

“And then there was me,” he continued, the words infinitely more delicate than they had been before, “I was- I was stupid. I’d never been as scared as I was that night—I’d never felt so _wrong_ seeing you hurt like that. And I realized I cared, that my feelings went beyond simple workplace admiration and even friendship, and I-” his voice broke off into a wry chuckle, “I remember trying to fall asleep, and it was just you on my mind, and I couldn’t seem to let you go. Just- just worrying, and _wanting_ to hold you. To protect you.”

She pressed her lips over the center of his chest, savoring the feel of his pulse against her skin once more. “It’s the same for me. There wasn’t a second before or after I realized it when I wasn’t thinking of you in some way.”

“You’ve- have you always, well, I don’t know.” Where his fingertips had before held her with such a sureness, such a firm resolution, they instead stuttered over her skin. 

“I think I’ve always cared about you,” she said, _understanding_ him. She’d known Jason for the better part of two years and had been intimately focused on his mannerisms since she’d first developed feelings, so she figured it was because they were always so comfortable with each other. 

“Really?” His face twisted up like he couldn’t believe it. “When we first met, you were very. . . timid? Skittish? Reserved? I really- I honestly thought I scared you.”

“It’s like I said before,” she traced nonsensical patterns into the palm of his hand, “I was wary because I was inexperienced in this line of work. But I don’t think I ever doubted that you were a good person.”

“I’m not-”

“You are.”

“I’m really not.”

She sighed, cupping his jaw to meet his eyes. “ _You are_. Sometimes- sometimes good people can do bad things, especially when they’ve been forced to endure too much.”

“I- Christ,” the tip of his tongue traced over the cut on his bottom lip, “How in God’s name do you manage to see the good in me? How the fuck do you even- how do you even fall in love with a person like me?”

The way he stared at her was, well, concerning; his eyes were only so shiny because tears were welling up, catching on his eyelashes and clumping them together. But it wasn’t just that, of course it was _never_ just that. Because Jason looked at her with all the fear and all the innocence of a child, one who was forced to grow up too soon and one who was still so lost despite so desperately seeking guidance. 

“I already told you how I fell in love with you; it was that night in the rain, and I guess everything that led up to that moment of realization was just you being yourself and me adoring every second of it,” she said. She hadn’t realized how quiet her voice had gotten, nor had she intended it, but it seemed to calm him down. 

“That’s-”

“Jason.” She said his name firmly but softly, to ground him in the moment and to tether him to her. “ _You_ made me see the good in you. _You_ made me fall in love with you. I don’t know what else to tell you other than you _aren’t_ a bad person and _are_ deserving of love.”

She waited for another protest. Jason had always been hellbent on hating himself, whether it be through the lighter form of constant self-deprecation or the more serious blatant self-loathing. He never cut himself any slack, always ganged up on himself, like the world had beaten him for nothing and like God, in all of His twisted ‘glory,’ had put him on Earth just to die. The problem was that Jason knew the world was unfair, he just also thought it was his fault somehow, or that he had maybe done something to deserve all of its wretched punishments.

But that protest never came. She lifted her head to watch his face—hadn’t even realized her gaze had sunk back down to the Y-shaped scar spanning his chest and abdomen—only to see the slightest ember of belief spark across his face. 

“I’m-” he swallowed, his body shaking against hers, so much so that the sheets rustled in the stillness of the room. “I’m thankful for you. Christ, every- every second of every day, I’m thankful for you.”

“I feel the same way, Jay.” She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. 

It wasn’t a complete acknowledgement or acceptance of his fundamental goodness and worth, but it wasn’t a denial of it, either. That was progress; so long as they moved forward, whether it be by inches or miles, she would be content. 

A kiss brushed over her brow—another pecked onto her cheek—until an entire attack of little brushes of his lips laid siege to her face and neck and chest. He paused only to murmur, “You make me want to be better, y’know? I want to be better for you.”

She allowed herself to smile a little more carelessly; he was happy and so was she, and while the contents of their conversation were still emotionally heavy, there was this bud of mutual understanding that allowed them to lighten it up. They would be okay, they always would, maybe because she and Jason joke around to make the bad seem a little bit better and because they would always fight for each other. 

“I don’t know if that’s possible.” Her arms hooked around his body, desperate for his warmth and touch. 

“I’ll always want to be better for you, angel,” he said. “I want- I want to be someone you can lean on, someone you can trust, and I- well, it’s- it’s kind of dumb.”

“Nothing about you could ever be dumb, Jay,” she rubbed small circles into his back in an attempt to coax that last thought out of him. 

“I- well, I want to be better so I can be someone you can love.” Jason shyly nestled into the top of her head, maybe so he didn’t have to look at her. With the brilliant scarlet burning across his chest, neck, and what she could see of his face, she figured that was a pretty accurate assessment. This boy was too goddamn cute for his own good. 

She smiled against him. “Looks like you’ve already accomplished that last one. And the others, too, might I add.”

“By some cosmic benevolence,” he agreed, finally allowing himself to laugh. Good; laughter and smiles and just plain _happiness_ had always suited Jason exceptionally well. 

“By your own wonderfulness, more like.”

He let out an exasperated groan, but she could hear the grin in his voice. “We aren’t starting this again, are we?”

“What?” she asked with maybe just a tad too much innocence. “My complimenting you?” 

“Yeah,” he grumbled. 

“Too bad. I’m going to tell you every day how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

“Please don’t.”

“Tough luck, buttercup,” she playfully nipped the skin of his pectoral, mindful of all of the scars that littered his chest. “It’s happening.”

He shuddered into her, his arms trembling and his breath hitched. “Christ, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” She doubted she’d ever stop smiling, and Jason looked like he reflected that same sentiment. They grinned together, _for_ each other. 

A comfortable pause settled between them. She nestled further into his chest, enjoying the smell of his skin and the faded remnants of last-night’s cologne. This was what she was missing—it was what her heart had always known but never experienced. Being in Jason’s embrace, knowing he shared the same depth of feelings that she did, was like coming home after a long day.


End file.
